Ninety Degrees: A Precursor to Small Circles

By Megan Duke

Ninety Degrees is the story behind Silas McFuller's senior year at Chattanooga Prep. He and his best friend, Charleigh McAfee, have never cared about grades or ACT scores. Their drive stems from creativity and pushing the boundaries when it comes to the arts and the world around them. They've got one year left of high school, and they want to make it count. For Charleigh, that means crossing into dangerous territory alongside a rebel with a southern drawl. For Silas, it means letting go of reasoning and finally letting his true self shine. Readers of the Small Circles books know better than any that life is short, and within that small spanse of time, it's okay to be happy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483527901

Book preview

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PART 1 - FALL

If there were two things Silas McFuller knew about the world, it was that life is not always fair, but everything happens for a reason. From a very young age, he’d come to know that despite all of the trials and tribulations one must go through in order to survive, good things normally came out of the bad. Even the worst of things proved to have some sort of purpose behind them. For seventeen years, he trusted that nature’s forces had the best intentions, and so far, he hadn’t been proven wrong.

When Silas was fifteen, he broke his arm jumping on a trampoline, thus preventing him from being able to pitch the rest of baseball season. He eventually came to understand that the time he’d spent away from his favorite sport had allowed him to pursue another passion. He picked up photography and spent time noticing the little things. It was this that led to Silas meeting his best friend Charleigh McAfee.

Charleigh was a free spirit, as most would describe her. A true rebel without a cause. Her bleach-blonde hair was accented with a different pop of color each week, and she covered the soles of her shoes in writing with lyrics from her favorite songs or quotes from her favorite books. She wasn’t the skinniest of girls, but not in an unhealthy way. She had curves for days and her broad shoulders made her appear wider than she actually was. Secretly, Charleigh wasn’t comfortable in her skin, but she never showed it. Her positive attitude reached as high as the sky, and it rubbed off on those around her, especially Silas.

Silas McFuller was not a free spirit. He tried to be at the best of times, but his true nature was very much stuck. He longed for the freedom Charleigh carried in her charisma, but honestly, Silas cared too much. He had a secret, too – one not even his best friend knew just yet – and it was this secret that made his high school experience much different than the rest.

Silas and Charleigh attended Chattanooga Preparatory School. It is, along with it’s sister school Foster and Allan Academy, a very prestigious establishment. It is also considered the lesser of the two, due to rumor that only the students whose families can’t afford boarding are sent there. The school houses grades 9-12, and Silas and Charleigh had first met their freshman year. Silas had recently moved from North Carolina, and Charleigh, she’d been a part of the area since she first learned how to breathe. She had taken it upon herself to show him the ropes and familiarize him with the area she’s called home for so long. It didn’t take much for the two to find a common ground. They both enjoyed the arts – to be fair, Silas had only just picked up on this hobby – and Charleigh bragged about her marvelous works of art scattered about the town. Her most potent form of expression was through her murals. Graffiti would be the proper term, of course, but she spoke of them like they were to be compared to Michelangelo’s renderings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Each masterpiece told a story, either of her or someone she’d known in her fifteen years of life. After that day, Silas secretly hoped that he could make an impact like that on someone in his life. Enough so that he could inspire a masterpiece. He’d always been a hopeless romantic, and leaving an impression that huge meant what he did mattered. It happened for a reason.

Now, the friends were starting their final year at CPS. They were seniors, at last. It had seemed like a long awaited journey for the both of them. They’d gone through a lot, but they still had one more year, and there were plenty of things they hadn’t faced yet.

On the first day back to school, Charleigh and Silas stood side by side in the senior hallway. Charleigh was especially chatty that morning, pulling out her books for first period from her locker and discussing what the point was of caring about classes her senior year. According to her, she’d be accepted to the art school of her dreams within the next few weeks, and they didn’t care about GPA.

It’s not like they’re going to even look at my ACTs. All they care about is my art, she divulged. I need to be focusing on my project for the senior class.

Silas closed his locker and slung his tattered messenger bag over his shoulder. They probably want you to show at least some initiative, though. You can’t mentally check out of a whole school year.

Sure I can. She flashed a mischievous smile and followed Silas’s lead, closing her locker and heading down the hall towards their first block.

When they entered the classroom, all the students were busy chatting excitedly. Everyone had returned to school refreshed and rejuvenated - several girls had made dramatic changes, such as dying their hair or losing significant pounds from dieting all summer. Silas had also made some changes. He’d gotten new glasses and cut his hair. The thick black rims and cropped hairdo made him look older and more sophisticated. A few of the other students had already complimented him. Secretly, however, Silas was waiting for one person in particular to notice.

He took a seat next to Charleigh in the back of the class, scanning the room to see if Dakota was present. Silas had a crush on Dakota Sterling since freshman year. It had continued as such until five months before, when Dakota had kissed him and things became complicated. You see, Dakota had a girlfriend – one he’d been with essentially since birth – and no one at school knew it wasn’t real. His relationship with Jo Beth was all for show. Only surface deep. Until a few months prior, Silas had been under the same impression as the others at school. He had always found Dakota attractive, but he’d never thought in a million years that the other boy would be interested in him. Dakota had confided the truth in Silas at an end of school party in May. He was intoxicated, of course, but something had broken him and forced the confidence he needed to come out. No one else knew. Silas was sworn to secrecy, and they’d sealed it with a kiss. Now, it was almost September. They’d gone all summer without talking, and Silas was on the edge of his seat, anticipating seeing the boy again after all that time.

The teacher was now on his feet. He was coaxing the other students back into their seats and was about to start the lesson, but he was interrupted by the subtle sound of the door opening.

And there he was: Dakota Sterling. His short, dark hair and almond brown skin contrasted perfectly with the green in his hazel eyes. He was wearing the traditional school uniform – a sky-blue oxford button down and khaki pants. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and he held his English book in one hand, casually.

Am I late? he asked, announcing himself.

Just in time Mr. Sterling, the teacher replied. Take a seat.

He did so, two rows in front of Silas. They didn’t make eye contact, but Silas could feel the tension like a cement block on his chest.

Shit, Charleigh huffed under her breath.

Her profanity was enough to break Silas from his trance. Huh?

My pencil broke. Can I borrow one?

Silas reached down and pulled a mechanical pencil from the pocket of his bag. As he did so, he noticed his phone lighting up the inside lining of the material. Swiftly, he pulled it out and checked his messages. His breath hitched as he read the name that labeled one new unread text. Dakota.

Nice hair.

Two seconds later.

Four eyes.

Silas ran a self-conscious hand through his black hair, making sure it stuck out in all the right places. He’d taken the time to style it perfectly that morning, even comparing himself to a picture of Adam Levine to get it just right. He glanced over at Dakota to see if the other boy was watching. He wasn’t. His eyes were focused straight ahead at the board the teacher was now scribbling on. Silas sent a quick response.

You noticed?

He watched to see when Dakota would receive it. A few moments later, the other boy dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked down at the screen and typed out something with his thumb. Then, he slipped it back into his pants and lifted his eyes back up to the board. Silas watched his own phone light up in response.

How could I not? ; )

Silas couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. He thought about sending something back, but he couldn’t think of anything clever to say. So, instead, he placed his phone back in his bag and started taking notes on that day’s lesson, all the while praising himself on a job well done.

Charleigh’s second block was Art IV. Of all the classes she had signed up to take her senior year, this by far was going to be her favorite. Throughout the next nine months, the students in her class would be working on their senior projects: a piece of art that represented their high school experience as a whole. She had been looking forward to this for ages and couldn’t wait to start pulling out her sketch book and fancy markers. She’d been planning this since she was fourteen – a freshman at CPS and eager to jump on the high school train. Her older brother, Harrison, was a senior at the time. He too was passionate about the arts. His project was a mural that now welcomed visitors in the front lobby of the school entrance. Charleigh had helped paint it – he’d done the outline himself – and she remembered thinking it was like a bigger version of Color by Numbers. She’d had it set in her mind that when it was finally her turn, she would do the same type of thing, but much bigger.

When she entered the class, she found a table in the third row that didn’t wobble and began spreading out her supplies along the surface. She was lining up her utensils according to size when she looked up and noticed a boy standing in front of her, staring fixedly at her actions.

Yes? she questioned.

The boy shook his head and smiled. Sorry. I’ve just never seen someone so organized before. He had a thick southern accent and bright blue eyes. His hair was a dirty shade of blond, and it fell in odd places on top of his head. His skin looked like someone had just baked him in the oven – perfectly tanned and spotted with tiny freckles.

Charleigh squinted her eyes in a stern manner. Someone has to be. The boy didn’t say anything. He stood poised and set on Charleigh’s next move. Are you sure you’re in the right class? she asked. I’ve taken Art every year and I’ve never seen you before. You have to pass the other three levels to get to this class.

He continued to stand there, shifting his eyes from the pink and blue strips of color in her hair to the box of Prismacolor markers clasped tightly between her fingers. My name is Tucker, he revealed. Before Charleigh could interrupt with another question, he answered her first one. I’ve already taken the first three levels at my old school. I just transferred from Foster and Allan. The principal said I was qualified to take the class, but he didn’t tell me you had the final say. He smirked.

Why did you transfer?

My mom got a new job that requires traveling. With her gone and me at boarding school, there was no one to watch my little brother. So, I came here. He cleared his throat. Not that you needed to know that.

Can’t she get a nanny?

Tucker rolled his eyes. I thought I left the school for the privileged. Charleigh’s eyes continued to shrink in misunderstanding. Not everyone has that kind of money, he added.

She placed her markers next to her sketchbook and pulled out the wooden chair from under her table. She sat. You came from F&A, she explained. I assumed you were just as well-off. Tucker continued to stare. So what’s your mom’s new job?

Tucker pulled his chair out too, but turned it to face Charleigh as he spoke. So curious, he noted, twitching an eyebrow. Are you always this concerned with new students? Afraid I’m stomping on your territory?

You’re the one that brought up your mom.

Only because you asked me why I transferred.

Okay…?

She couldn’t think of what else to say.

She’s a journalist, Tucker specified.

Charleigh relaxed a little. She had no idea why this guy was making her so uncomfortable, but she had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he never looked away. She hadn’t even seen him blink.

She smiled in response to his answer and looked to the front of the class. Their teacher hadn’t arrived yet. It was going to be an intimate setting, for not many students stuck it out all the way to Art IV. Most dropped out after Art II, realizing it wasn’t just a class they could take to fill in their credits and get away with doing nothing all semester. Including Tucker and herself, there were only six other students in the class – none of which Charleigh spoke to outside the school day. She normally avoided talking to them at all, and usually managed to work on her projects in peace. This year, however, it looked as though she was going to have a hard time shaking off her new friend.

Tucker was still watching her, but he turned his gaze to the door when Mr. Fletcher walked in.

Good afternoon, he welcomed the class. How are we all this fine September day?

Mr. F!

A boy named Robert had eagerly leapt from his seat and was walking towards the front of the class to meet Mr. Fletcher at his desk. Check out what Chelsea and I did this summer in South America, he said. We got to design the artwork for the whole building. It turned out so sick! He was holding an iPad and flicking through what Charleigh could only assume were images of said summer on the screen.

That’s great! Mr. Fletcher cheered. I’m glad you guys got to go and be part of that. He looked to Chelsea, sitting proudly at her table. Her smile was beaming from across the room. Charleigh rolled her eyes.

Anyone else do something involving art this summer? Mr. Fletcher asked the class.

Two other students offered up their stories of world travel and creativity, then Tucker spoke up. He was still facing Charleigh, with his back to the front of the class.

I made a birdhouse, he said confidently. And I painted it to look like Hogwarts.

All of the students chuckled.

Now, that’s different, Mr. Fletcher said. You’re Tucker, am I right?

Tucker swiveled around in his seat to face him. Yep. Tucker Watson. In the flesh.

Mr. Fletcher smiled. I heard we were getting a new student. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aaron Fletcher. You can call me whatever suits you.

He’d said the same thing when Charleigh had first been in his class her freshman year, but she found it extremely odd when teachers allowed students to call them by their first names. She’d only ever referred to him as Mr. Fletcher and she doubted that’d ever change.

Cool, Tucker accepted.

He faced his chair in the correct direction and leaned back, clasping his hands at the back of his head. Charleigh tried