The Canadian Girl

If you take a born and raised shy Canadian girl and put her in a new school in sunny California, who do you get? None other than the awkward but smart bookworm, Brooke Collins. She's new to Hawthorne High School and will she, for the first time in her life, find the perfect guy and become recognized, or will she remain the independent, quite girl who doesn't attract attention? She's The Canadian Girl.


1. First Impressions

Today is my first day of high school. Well not exactly. It’s my first day attending Hawthorne High School. I am the new kid. My family and I spent the summer packing and just a week ago, I was dumped here. I’m from Alberta, Canada and now I’m here in California. It’s very sunny here; so much the sun starts to hurt my eyes after a while.


I walk down the hall; my books are cradled in my arms. I can feel a trickle of sweat slowly slide down my forehead, not just because it’s obnoxiously hot here and I made a bold decision to wear jeans and long sleeved shirt while the other girls are wearing shorts and tank tops, but because I am stressed and nervous. Being the new girl scares me. I have never had to go to a new school before where I didn’t know anyone. Since kindergarten, I have always known who my friends are. I would only meet new people through my friends. I am not good at making new friends, I’m too shy. I’m the quiet girl, you know the one who you always see sitting silently reading a big book that you don’t recognize, that’s me. My friends were book worms too, and now I’m on my own.


A cold breeze flies by the back of my neck as my brown hair is up in a bun. I take in a deep breath and remind myself that it’s only high school. I’m a good student; I’ll focus on my grades and pass easily in two years. I don’t need any friends at the moment; I’m good at being independent.


If you didn’t think I was a nerd before, you will now; I came to school early. And not just a little early. There was no one around, I was alone walking down the halls and searching desperately for my locker. I have to admit, this school was bigger but not enough for me to be lost so soon.


I read the slip of paper that I had gotten from the office. It read my schedule for the first semester, my student ID number as well as my locker number. I was on the second floor, which I knew was correct, although as smart of a student as I was, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where I was going. I read the locker numbers around me, 212, 213, I wasn’t even close. I had to find locker 279, which I am guessing is somewhere on the other side of the school.


I groaned and decided to give up. I sat down, leaning against the closest locker and set my books at my side. I picked up my favourite book, caressing the cover with my thumb, fixed my glasses into place and decided I’d start reading it again. I’ve lost count of the amount of time I’ve read this book, but every time it never seemed to disappoint, not just because I know the ending and love it every time but because I always experience the excitement throughout each time.


The halls were silent and I hugged my book close. I didn’t know what to expect coming here but I was hoping my first day would have gone a little better than this. I’m still tired from waking up so early and I let out a loud yawn.


Not much longer I heard footsteps coming from farther down the hall. Oh great, someone’s coming and I’m sitting here by myself reading a book already starting to look like the loner. I slouch even further against the locker trying to make myself invisible, even though I know it won’t work. In this empty hall, I stick out like a sore thumb.


They came closer but I still couldn’t tell if it was a girl or a boy or even a teacher or a student. I decided not to find out and picked up my book, covering my face with it, pretending to read. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and try to relax. Whoever it is obviously is just passing by. Except I was wrong, because when they get closer they stop. Under the book I was holding I could see a pair of shoes, a pair of men’s shoes.


“Excuse me,” a deep voice from above me.


My eyes slowly dare to look up from the floor. Above me is a very attractive guy. He has blond sandy hair and dark hazel eyes. His body is built and one word pops into my mind when I see him; jock.


“Hello?” he waved a hand in front of me when I didn’t answer him.


“Er – hello,” I said, not exactly sure why he would stop to talk to me. Guys have never really had an interest in me before, because I kept to myself. Especially not any guy like him. My stomach began to flutter; maybe this wasn’t such a horrible first day after all.


“You’re sitting in front of my locker,” he said, and then my stomach dropped. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been as disappointed as I was.


Too embarrassed to say anything, I grabbed my stuff and moved slightly to the right. Of course, of all places I just happened to sit in front of his. I sat there, watching him quietly as he rummaged desperately for something in his very messy locker. He let out a sigh of relief when he must have found what he’d been looking for. Then he glanced down at me and I quickly looked away before he noticed that I had been staring at him.


He slowly closed his locker and then was silent. I dared for only a moment to look back up at him in the corner of my eye. He was staring back down at me, like he was concentrating. Then he smirked.


“Are you new?” he asked.


I scoffed. “New to what? Talking, not exactly, I’ve been speaking since I was two. Walking, I am also very good at. I’m not exactly new to school either, in fact I am rather good at school. But I am however new at this school, if that’s what you were getting at,” I said as I sped through my words quite fast.


Right then, when I saw his face, I knew I had blown it. He looked confused at first then began to start laughing. So I joined in awkwardly.


“Wow, you’re really umm…interesting,” he said. Not exactly the compliment I was hoping for. “I like it,” he continued.


I smiled a bit. “So is this your locker, next to mine?” he questioned.


“Unfortunately not,” did that sound too desperate? “I mean, it’s just that I can’t exactly find my locker,” I admitted.


“Hmm, can I help you?” he offered.


I scoffed again, “You should really work on asking better questions, yours are to vague. But yes, you may help me find my locker, please,” I smiled.


He laughed again, “What’s the number?”


I just looked at him very un-amused; it’s like he didn’t even hear what I just said.


“Sorry, what’s the locker number,” he corrected himself and chuckled.


“Locker 279,” I told him.


He nodded, “Okay, follow me.”


I did as he instructed and began to follow him down the hall. So far so good I thought to myself. As we walked down the hall, I tried to pay attention to where we were going and picked out some helpful key points along the way. We went through this beautiful walk way, windows covered both walls and the ceiling. The sun shined through the glass, brightening the hallway and there were flowers of all different colours, growing on either side.


“This is beautiful,” I commented, mesmerized by the walkway. He nodded, “Very.”

“Look at all the colours,” I observed, smiling. “Oh, you mean the flowers and the walkway,” he said looking away from me, “Yeah, those are nice too.”


I blushed lightly and looked out the window to my side. I could see more students coming into the school.


“So where are you from, new girl?”


“It’s Brooklyn and I moved from Alberta, Canada.”


“Ah I see, Brooklyn, eh?” his voice was teasing.


Wow, knowing I was moving to America, I knew the Canadian jokes were bound to come with. They were starting already.


“Oh come on, have you heard me say that work once, that we’ve been talking?” I defended myself.


“I don’t need to hear it from you to know that you’re Canadian,” he shrugged.




“Your skin is frost white. Everyone else here is much more tan.”


I nodded, he was right. I guess that was something that I needed to work on, being in California.


“But,” he continued, “I like that you’re different.”


I tried my hardest not to look so happy and desperate. But me being me, I couldn’t help let out a big grin. That was the most attention I have ever gotten from a boy.


We started to slow down at the end of the hall.


“I believe this is your locker,” he acknowledged, patting the locker with the number 279 at the top as he leaned on the one next to it.


More people starting passing us through the halls and the school began to look less deserted at the slightest.


“Thank you,” I said to him, beginning to pile away my things in the small space.


I nodded, “Anytime. I should head back before class I guess. Good luck, I’ll see you around if you survive your first day,” he said teasingly.


I just laughed as he smiled and made his way down the hall. I might actually like this school after all.


Then I realized, I forgot to get his name.


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