Always the New Girl: New Girl, #1

By Kelly Vincent

Knitting nerd Sarah Redmond is always the new girl, never the popular one.

 

Moving all over the country with her flighty mom seemed to be her lot in life, but her junior year at Sierra Vista High School feels like it could be different.

 

She's finally on the verge of a social breakthrough.

 

But when she gets publicly punked at her first party, she and her new friends find a creative way to use their shared obsession with knitting to exact sweet revenge.

 

And when their efforts lead to a lucrative business, Sarah knows she's set.

 

But when her deadbeat dad comes back around she starts to wonder if she should try for a different life, instead of following the paths her parents have chosen.

 

She'd always half thought her small-time knitting channel could grow into a big-time knitting channel, but maybe college as a backup plan isn't such a ridiculous idea, after all.

 

But is that something a girl like her can really make happen?

 

Kudos for the book:

First place in the 2023 National Excellence in Story Telling (NEST) Award, YA Novel

Finalist in the 2023 Next Generation Indie Book Award, Young New Adult Fiction (17+)

Finalist in the 2023 Book Excellence Award, Young Adult Fiction

Quarterfinalist in the 2021 BookLife Prize for Fiction, Young Adult & Middle Grade

• Language: English
• Publisher: KV Books LLC
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985151152

Book preview

PART I

Now Would Be Good

September Junior Year

My stomach was doing backflips and I wouldn’t even be at the party for another two hours. I stared into my closet. The shelf only had a box with several skeins of yarn in it and the bar beneath it held a pitiful selection of clothes, half of which I’d made. Lots of knitted tops and jeans. Still, I absolutely had to get this right—my social life depended on it.

It sounded a little dramatic, but it was true. I’d been to parties in the past but it was always hard to get out there and talk to people. I wasn’t shy—I was just always new.

And she’d just done it again. The last one had been Lazy Larry and we were both glad to get out of his grungy place in Utah. This time it was Dentist Dave. We’d gotten here—to uber-hot Sierra Vista, Arizona—a month ago, just in time for me to get a late-summer job at an ice cream shop and start junior year along with everyone else. And also just in time for monsoon season. Who knew Arizona got any rain at all, much less flash floods?

Things were looking better for me here, though. I’d already made a group of friends. Kayla especially seemed to have taken me under her wing. She wanted me and Quentin to get together. I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t going to complain because he was pretty hot—tall and blond. It was his party.

Usually I wore jeans with tops I’d knitted myself. I had a lot of them because I spent all my allowance, plus the money I’d made at The Inside Scoop slinging ice cream on yarn. I even had a YouTube channel on knitting, and it was really popular. I had over 10,000 subscribers and some of my most dedicated ones—tangledintacoma, purlsofwisdom, and mildredknits—regularly got into whole conversations about my videos.

My specialty was knitting stuffed animals and other objects like vegetables. My favorite was my rutabaga, which I’d made four times the size of a real one. A whole craft culture had started in Japan called amigurumi—cute crocheted or knitted animals—and had expanded all over the world. I figured why not try to start one for vegetables? I was working on a beet at the moment, stem included, plus a large green dragon.

Kayla had said, Make sure to wear something cute! Jeans might not cut it.

I thought of this one sleeveless halterneck dress I’d made out of yellow yarn. It was loose knit and had white diagonal stripes, and I loved it. I just hadn’t had the nerve to wear it anywhere yet because it was pretty short—hitting about mid-thigh—though I did have a slip dress to wear under it.

Should I? Did I have the guts this time? I’d never been really comfortable in short skirts. I always felt too exposed. But my mom did always tease me about it, saying I should show off my thin legs while I still had them.

Kayla would know. I pulled out my phone and snapped pics of the dress and the shirt and jeans laid out on the bed and texted Kayla.

—Which should I wear?—

I debated for a few minutes, studying my closet for alternatives until my phone dinged.

—The dress!!! Its super cute!!!—

I grinned and put the dress on. For once, I was glad Mom didn’t obsess about my clothes the way some moms did. She trusted me.

I love your dress, Sarah, she said when we got in the car.

She was probably also noticing how short it was, but she didn’t say anything about that.

How long did this one take you?

About a month.

Wow, you impress me so much. She reached over and squeezed me on the shoulder.

Thanks, Mom. She knitted, but she still didn’t get why I felt the need to create random objects and share them online.

She turned the key and the engine turned over a couple times but didn’t catch. She tried two more times before it started.

Call Dave when you’re ready to come home, okay? Mom said as we drove there. She was taking me on her way to her tow truck dispatcher job and wouldn’t be able to leave to pick me up. There’s a storm coming.

I agreed, noting the heavy clouds moving in. It was going to pour.

She dropped me off a few houses down because of all the cars blocking the way and then did a U-turn. I practically bounced down the street to get to the party. I felt like a little kid going to their first birthday party, which was stupid, but there you go. I took my pink lip gloss out and reapplied it. I’d never been to a house this big before. It really was gigantic and all gray stone with some wood highlights, giving it the look of a looming castle on a street full of huts.

I was so excited. If Quentin would go out with me, it would be so awesome. I couldn’t believe how cute he was. He always had perfect hair, plus he was built like the baseball player he was, all broad-shouldered and tall. I’d also finally have a real life on par with my online life. I’d be one of the popular kids in school, not just on YouTube.

Part of me wondered if it was real. Could it really be this easy to make cool friends and become popular?

But no. Why would Kayla be so nice if she didn’t want to be friends?

Of course it was real.

As I crossed the street, a guy in cargo shorts and flip-flops who I’d seen at school stood on the front lawn talking to a couple of girls in very short skirts. They all held red plastic cups and one of the girls was smoking. They stopped talking and watched me walk up to the porch. Ice cold crept up my spine and turned into doubt again.

No, I was just being stupid. I was supposed to be here.

The guy called, Hey, are you sure you want to go in?

What do you mean? Why?

The two girls watched me while he said, They’re not who you think they are.

What was he saying? I was clearly invited. Jerks. I’m good, I said, exuding manufactured confidence.

He shrugged and looked away.

I held my breath and knocked. No one answered. My stomach flipped again.

I exhaled, pushed the door open, and stood in the entryway trying to decide what to do next. Club music pounded so loud from the room straight ahead that I could feel the bass in my chest; people were dancing all sorts of crazy ways, some clutching each other and others throwing arms and legs in all directions. I shivered with excitement and then with nerves. How would I find my friends? What would Quentin think of my dress? I spun to shut the door.

A girl I knew through Kayla was there when I turned back around. She smiled and said, Hi, Sarah. Her perfect blonde hair brushed her shoulders.

Hi, Leslie! I grinned so widely that I could feel the corners of my eyes scrunch up. It was ridiculous how excited I was about this.

Behind her I recognized Quentin as he came back through the foyer to the dining room. He wore a blue polo shirt and his signature cargo shorts. My heart started up. Would we get together tonight?

It sure would be nice to make out with somebody again.

I saw a large cluster of people huddled around a table in the dining room. Kayla stood next to Quentin in a really cute baby-blue dress. He was smirking. And so was Kayla.

I’m sorry, but you are no longer invited to this party, Leslie said in a flat voice.

What? I laughed and then stopped when her grim expression didn’t change, a thousand miniature bombs exploding in my chest. What was happening? What do you mean I’m not invited?

A nervous giggle went through the back room, where some kids were watching us. Somebody had turned the music down.

Leslie crossed her arms. You need to leave.

What? I stupidly asked again. But—

Leslie narrowed her blue eyes and Kayla called, Now would be good.

My stomach filled with lead so heavy it locked me in place while my mind roiled. What were they talking about? What was going on? And why?

They seemed to mean it, based on Leslie’s pursed lips. I looked at her, with her mocking eyes, and then back at the rest of the crew I’d been eating lunch with for the last two weeks. I couldn’t read their expressions. Most of them were straight-faced though a few were smiling. I don’t understand, I said.

You don’t have to understand, you just have to leave, Leslie said with a nasty smile.

Quentin, your girlfriend’s here, someone called.

Quentin smirked. Like I’d hit that.

Oh my God. Could you die simply from wanting to?

I looked at my new so-called friends. Some weren’t looking at me, but several threw me very serious, direct looks while others laughed openly. I locked eyes with Kayla and mentally pleaded for her to make this a joke, to say something to Quentin, but she sneered and turned her head to the side before laughing loudly.

Then she called, Nice dress.

I was in shock. What was happening, and why? It finally sank in. I was being punked. For no reason.

Heat radiated off my face, red-hot shame, and tears loomed. But I fought them and it slowly dawned on me that this was what the guy outside had meant. Everybody had known about this in advance. God, I wanted to disappear into the floor. And now I had to actually turn around and leave, all these kids watching and laughing.

And why? What had I ever done to them—or anybody?

My whole body felt hot from humiliation. I took one step back and found myself against the door. I was still staring at Kayla, who wore a big grin like a joker mask. She faced me again and we made eye contact just as someone else cackled. Her grin widened. I turned around and opened the door and was on the porch. Leslie hissed, Loser, and shut the door.

I glanced back. It was very, very closed.

I turned around and my gaze landed on the people hanging out in the yard. My entire social life was closed now.

You okay? the guy asked.

Heat flared in my face. Fine. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Who was he, anyway?

The girls watched me passively but he took a sip from his cup and said, You need a ride somewhere?

No, I’m good. For all I knew, this was part of the prank.

It’s going to rain soon, he said as I slunk past them, staring at the sidewalk.

He was right. I’d call Dave once I was out of sight. I got to where Mom had dropped me off. She was long gone. God, this was horrible.

I started toward home. I felt sick at being enough of an idiot to fall for the trick. How had I so misread everything? I kept trudging along, giving up on the idea of calling Dave. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

When I was well into the home stretch, already in the neighborhood where we were staying, there was a loud crack and the skies opened.

I instantly freaked about my phone—it hadn’t been easy to convince my mom to get me a new one—and raced to the nearest covered porch. I needed the phone intact, since it was how I filmed the close-up knitting for my videos.

When I got there, water was dripping off my forehead and rolling down my arms, but the phone was safe enough in my purse, a little round knitted thing I’d done in an afternoon. And fortunately I’d prewashed the yarn in my dress, so that was okay.

I set my purse between my feet and ran my left hand down my right arm to wipe the water away. But when I did the same with my left arm, I just lost it. Tears flowed off my chin almost as fast as the rain pounded the grass. I folded over as my stomach twisted in pain that matched the agony in my heart.

I’d really thought this time was different. How could I have fallen for it? I was so stupid. Of course I couldn’t just walk into a new school and become popular. This just made me cry harder.

My head throbbed so I righted myself and wiped snot from my nose and more tears from my eyes. I really should have known. I wasn’t top-of-the-food-chain material. Which was fine. I’d just gotten caught up in the excitement.

The tears were nowhere near done, but all I could do was wait for the torrent to stop.

After the walk home Saturday night, I’d dug around on social media and found some really embarrassing pictures of me standing in the doorway at the party, mouth hanging open in surprise.

At least the dress was cool.

Sunday morning, Mom asked me how the party was. Apparently, Dave hadn’t told her how early I’d come in.

Great, I’d said.

She laughed. That’s not very specific. What happened? Who did you talk to?

Oh, it was pretty chill. I talked with Kayla and everyone. I wasn’t sure she’d think that was exciting enough, so I added, Danced a little.

With anybody special? she teased.

I had to concentrate to not flinch at that. Oh, you know, not really. I forced a smile. God, this was unbearable.

I’m glad you’ve made good friends so fast this time.

I couldn’t take it anymore. "Actually, Mom, it sucked. It was all a trick on me."

She looked taken aback. What do you mean?

You know, the old trick—punk the new kid. They wouldn’t let me into the party. Apparently, they were just pretending to be my friends.

Her face darkened. Those little shits.

I know. I sighed.

Mom shook her head. I don’t get it. We never did stuff like this when I was your age.

You didn’t have social media.

The ramifications of that hit her. Oh, honey. Is it bad?

Could be worse. That was true. It could be. I’d been through humiliating things before. Still, it stung. I think I’m just going to go back to my room.

Okay, sweetie. If you say so. She hugged me and let me go.

I’ll be okay, I’m sure. Just need to find new friends.

I have faith in you. We won’t be moving any time soon. I feel good about this time. I think Dave’s a keeper.

I nodded. She always thought that. Still, he was a nice guy. He tried to talk to me, for one, which was a vast improvement over most of Mom’s other boyfriends. Usually they ignored me. I went back to my room to finish my beet.

Which I still loved, by the way. The yarn was awesome, though a little difficult to work with because it was fine. I made it through the rest of the day and recorded some of the close-up shots of me finishing up the beet construction, then edited the video. My viewers were going to love this one. Then I went through and responded to some of the comments on my recent videos. As much as I was trying to distract myself, I still felt hollow and none of this revived me.

The feeling dragged into Monday morning. The whole bus ride to school, I concentrated on not making eye contact with anyone. I planned to just lie low. Just get through the next few days until things settled down.

As it turned out, lying low wasn’t going to happen. One of the first people I saw in the building was Kayla, who put on a big, fat, fake smile and said, How’s it going, Sarah? Sew anything else lately? Quentin was standing right next to her, smirking.

I stared at her for a second, trying to recover from the surprise I always felt with a personal attack, even though it wasn’t unexpected. I don’t sew. I knit. There’s a difference.

Silly me. She laughed and tossed her hair back.

Still reeling, I looked at the floor and waded through the other kids to get to French, all the time wishing I was one of those people who could come up with a quick and biting comeback. I hadn’t expected the knitting diss, despite her dress comment Saturday.

I tried to ignore the snickers that seemed to be coming from everywhere the rest of the morning.

Because until that moment with Kayla, I hadn’t realized they thought my knitting was uncool. And I was wearing one of my vests over a white collared shirt.

By third period, I thought about throwing the vest—a green and blue striped one with oversized blue buttons that I’d made only last month—into my locker, but I thought that might draw even more attention. Everyone had already seen me in it. They’d know what I was trying to do. Plus, screw them.

Wearing it was the best way to say I didn’t care. I had some pride, after all. I was starting to get a little pissed about everything. Who did they think they were? Kayla and Quentin. Queen Bee and Mr. Jock. I had to figure out a way to get back at them.

Of course, then it was time to go into the cafeteria, something I’d been consciously ignoring all morning.

As ever, the din filled the room, but now it wasn’t full of possibilities. It was intimidating. Just like on the first day, when Kayla had come over and rescued me while I stood inside the door, studying the room for where to go.

I was not going to relive that embarrassing memory. I’d been such a fool to buy into her nonsense. You’re new here, right? Why don’t you come sit with us! Don’t worry, we’re nice.

Ha. Why did I think it would be so different here in roasting Arizona? Making friends was supposed to take some time. It always had elsewhere. Plus, I’d never gotten in with the most popular kids anywhere. I was usually with the invisible middle.

I avoided looking toward their table and instead noted the beige walls just inside the door as I headed over to the food line. There was the stack of trays in the corner and a weird little shelf in the wall next to it. I picked up a faded red tray from the stack and set it on the rails, which stretched out and curved to the right. A guy bumped my shoulder as he cut in front of me, laughing with someone else. He didn’t even say sorry.

When I got through the line with my food, I had to figure out where to sit. Awkward and humiliating. The seating area was teeming with kids. Cool kids, athletes, freaks, geeks. Everybody already seemed to have landed where they needed to be or were getting there quickly.

I stood for a while, sort of frozen in place.

Hey, there, a girl called from behind me. I loved your dress Saturday.

Once again, I wished I could come up with something snappy, but instead I turned around and stared at her, mute.

The first thing I noticed was the knitted beret she was wearing over her short brown hair. Whoever had made it used a bulky multicolored wool yarn, mostly a rusty red. It looked cool, but I would have used a finer gauge.

Then I looked at her. She had a spattering of freckles across her nose and wore a friendly smile and a practical burgundy polo shirt.

Maybe she wasn’t mocking me?

Thanks, I said cautiously. You saw me?

Yeah, unfortunately I was there, but I didn’t know what was going on. My boyfriend is on the baseball team. Those guys are all jerks, except Jacob. She walked toward me with her own tray of chicken. Did you follow a pattern or design it yourself?

Designed it myself. The pattern I’d created was on my blog and of course I’d done a video about making it.

We’ve all been admiring your vests, the girl said.

I was still suspicious but simply said, Thanks.

She was next to me now and we headed toward the middle of the room.

I’m Gretchen, by the way.

I’m Sarah.

Once she stopped at a table, I knew she wasn’t mocking me. One of her friends had on leggings and a long t-shirt, but even I could see it wasn’t a cool sweater. Another had braces and red glasses. The resident geek, maybe. The last girl had a slight punk look, with her boots and her gray dress topped by a plaid shirt. They made an odd group, which probably meant they were more real than my faux friends. There was room for individuality.

Oh, crap, Gretchen said. There aren’t enough seats.

Gretchen sat in the last one, still looking at me. We’ll save you one tomorrow, I promise. But get here fast.

Then she went around the table and introduced me to everyone anyway. Steph had long brown hair and was in the leggings, Lizzy had the braces and glasses, and Olivia was in Docs.

They all smiled at me, although Olivia looked less than thrilled. That felt like a bad sign. Or maybe it was good because it probably meant she was being real, so the others were too. It was impossible to know.

I nodded in what I hoped was a friendly manner and worked my way to a seat in the very back corner of the cafeteria. I got mocked a couple times, but it didn’t bother me too much because I was getting numb to it. I’d be fine. Back in the middle again.

I found a spot at the end of a table and ate in my own bubble of silence.

At lunch the next day, I went through the line by myself and picked up a limp salad, hoping the state of the lettuce didn’t foreshadow the entire lunch period. I nervously snaked my way over to the table, silently asking the universe for there to really be an open seat.

My thoughts and heart started racing and in order to calm myself, I thought about the green dragon I’d worked on the night before. I was done with the tail of the little creature that would be about eighteen inches long, tail to snout. My video was coming along nicely.

The only one at the table was Olivia, an apple and some mac and cheese in front of her. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there.

She looked me up and down.

Is there room? I choked out.

She nodded and pushed her black hair behind her ears.

I started to sit across from her and she said, Not there. You can sit over there. She pointed two seats down.

Oh. I stood there stupidly for a second before taking the offered seat. Soon Lizzy and Steph got there and greeted me. They seemed friendly—more enthusiastic than Olivia.

Okay, apparently there were assigned seats. People could be so weird. So maybe Olivia didn’t hate me.

When Gretchen