I hand him my paper and lean back against the seat, disgruntled. What kind of school is this, with junkies loitering the lawn and teachers who don’t teach? God, I wish I was back at Essex.
“Whoa.” Brick is staring at my paper. “Honors English. AP Chem?” He laughs. “I think you’re even in Advanced Trig with me. That’s a senior-level class.” He hands me back the paper. “Impressive.”
“She used to go to Essex,” Chloe offers.
“Oh yeah?” Brick looks at me with interest, like I’m supposed to start quoting Shakespeare or something. Then he teases his cousin, “Maybe you can learn something from your new friend, Chlo.”
Chloe whips her head toward him. “Lay off, Brick. School hasn’t even started.” This is the first time I’ve heard Chloe sound anything close to angry. Obviously academics are a sore spot with her.
“Yeah, but I’m the one who’s going to hear about it from Aunt Lil if you start falling behind again,” Brick fires back.
I hold my breath. The tension is so thick, it’s like they forgot I’m in the car.
Just as I’m about to break the silence and ask for that tour, Chloe says, “I’m going to walk around.” She opens her door and heads toward the building. Brick closes his eyes, obviously regretting his words.
I jump out of the SUV and jog after Chloe, falling into step beside her. She opens her mouth, and I’m seriously expecting her to start bitching about Brick, but instead she blurts, “Eighth grade was tough, and I don’t mean the schoolwork. Bad grades were just a byproduct of an all-around bad year.” She shoots me a quick glance. “I should probably tell you—I’m kind of a social leper. You might not want to be my friend once school starts.”
It’s amazing to me that someone so fun-loving could be any kind of outcast. We walk on, side by side. I take a deep breath, and decide to open the door just a crack, “Well. I’m kind of a social leper, too. So I guess we’re even again.”
Chloe looks at me and smiles. Really smiles. I almost smile back.
“I see what you mean about Brick being bossy,” I add after a minute, hoping she won’t take offense.
She snorts. “Ya think? But he means well. He just tries too hard. He feels like he owes my parents for taking him in, which is so stupid. We’re family.” She shrugs. “Anyway, he’s fairly popular here, so that may help us fit in. The girls drool over his accent, and all the guys think he’s cool. He’s pretty picky, though.”
“About the girls or the guys?”
“About everything.”
We have reached the main entrance and somehow Brick beat us here. He must have sprinted. He opens the door and holds it for us both, but once we’re inside I pretend to be fascinated with the bulletin board on the wall, and let the two of them walk ahead.
Brick mumbles to Chloe, “Sorry I gave you a hard time. I know you’ll do well this year.”
“It’s okay.” She tosses him a forgiving smile.
He pulls her into a playful headlock and she laughs, shoving her elbow against his ribs. Chloe may not have friends, I think, watching them walk down the hall together, but at least she has Brick.
The rest of the tour goes smoothly, and I find myself enjoying being with people my own age. I find myself not wanting the afternoon to end, not wanting to leave their world. But I have to be home before dusk to serve Judd his evening meal, so I decline their invitation to dinner. Chloe jokes that I’m probably better off because her mom’s working late and who knows what experimental delicacy her dad will concoct. Brick offers to drop me at my house, but I casually say, “No thanks, I’ll just walk home from your place.”
Before I leave, Chloe orders me to meet her at the pond tomorrow, like there is no question about us being best buds from here on out. Then she hugs me tightly, leaving me breathless, and I am reminded of everything, everything I’ve been missing.
“School fees are fifty dollars,” I tell Judd quietly on Sunday morning. I figure acting meek is the best approach.
“You don’t need school,” Judd retorts, sipping his coffee. “You need to start workin’ off your debt, girl. Thought I made that clear.”
“If I don’t go to school, how am I supposed to support myself when my two years are up?” I ask desperately.
“Not my problem.”
I look away, distraught. I know that arguing with Judd will bring trouble, but school is the one thing I won’t give up. I will fight to the death on this one.
Before I can figure out how to explain this in a way that won’t result in my head getting bashed in, Ayla saunters into the kitchen wearing a long silky nightgown. “Give her the money, Judd,” she says flatly.
Judd slams his coffee cup down and looks at Ayla like she must have a death wish. I look at her the same way. Is she actually sticking up for me?
Ayla pours herself some coffee. “It’s the only way I can prove she’s with me, taken care of. They look at the school records before they send my checks,” she explains. “My mother set it up that way. She has to be attending regularly.”
My heart deflates. Of course it’s about the money. Any connection I thought we’d made on the road is…roadkill. But when Judd agrees to let me go to Belmont without any more fuss, I shrug off my disappointment in Ayla. Who cares why they’re doing it, as long as I get what I need?
Five ten-dollar bills are laid out flat on the table next to the paper Judd uses to keep track of my debt. I swallow hard and force myself to speak again, despite Judd’s scowl. “I won’t be able to carry all my books. I need a backpack.”
Judd storms over to the pantry. A moment later, he slaps a black plastic garbage bag on the tabletop in front of me. “There’s your backpack.”
Jaw clenched, I take the bag and the money and jam them into my shorts pocket. I stand up to make my breakfast, but Judd halts me by gripping my neck.
“Your new total’s seven fifty. Figure out how to come up with it yet?”
“I’m working on it,” I lie.
“Tick tock,” he whispers, lips close to my ear. His hot breath repulses me, and my body reacts by wrenching away from him. Judd’s grasp keeps me in place, though, his fingers squeezing tighter until I stop resisting. Then he glances around and says, “The goddamn house is filthy. Needs to be cleaned, top to bottom.”
“Fine,” I mutter, gritting my teeth.
“Before you eat,” he snarls. I close my eyes. That means I may not get a bite until dinnertime.
As I pull out the cleaning supplies from beneath the sink, I realize why Judd’s in such a foul mood. Even though he’s got Ayla back on her pills, he hasn’t been nearly as generous as he was before we left town, so she’s grouchy from the time one buzz starts to wear off until she gets her next dose. It’s a chain reaction of meanness—withdrawal to Ayla, Ayla to Judd, Judd to me.
I shouldn’t have asked him for that fifty dollars, should have just clicked the link for financial support on Belmont High’s website. But I was worried that someone from school would need to meet with Ayla about it. I can’t trust her to be sober long enough to have a normal conversation with a school official.
Having no good options, I chose Judd. And now, as always, I’m paying for it.
But at least I’m going to school next week. At least there’s that.
Chapter 26
The woods look different in the dark—producing longer shadows and distorted shapes. They sound different, too. Each twig breaking, each tweet of a bird, each rustling leaf echoes in my ears. A year ago this trek would have spooked me. Now I have bigger things to be afraid of than the coo of a mourning dove.
I don’t let the darkness slow me down because it takes fifteen minutes of brisk hiking to reach the pond. The first rays of sunlight are poking over the horizon when I scramble up the hickory tree and join Chloe on a thick brown branch. I settle in next to her and we wordlessly wat
ch the sky transform from the darkest indigo to the color of salmon before it settles into a pale shade of blue.
Chloe opens a satchel that’s hooked around her neck, pulls out two small baggies, and hands one to me. Inside is an assortment of nuts, berries, granola, and M&Ms.
“I brought something too.” I pull out a peanut butter-and-honey sandwich and give her half.
“Ooh,” she squeals. “My mom made these for me when I was little.”
“So did my Gram,” I say without thinking twice.
We listen to the woods come alive as we munch our breakfast. A feeling of contentment sweeps over me. For once, I refuse to worry it away.
“Last day of summer vacation,” Chloe murmurs and leans against the tree trunk.
I think about all that happened this summer and sigh heavily. Despite my efforts, I ended up back where I started. Well, not exactly. I have Chloe now, and that’s a huge improvement.
After a moment, Chloe says, “Brick said you could ride to school with us if you wanted. We can pick you up.”
The idea of Brick pulling into Judd’s driveway and tapping his horn for me sends my heart racing. No way will I let Judd anywhere near my new friends. He would find some way to use them against me.
“Well,” I say slowly, stalling. “A ride would be great, but I’ll just meet you at your house each morning.”
Chloe shoots me a strange look. “Okay, if you want to walk that far. You’d better be on time, though,” she says, giggling. “Now that he knows you better, his manners won’t be so impeccable.”
I nod, feeling warm and fuzzy at the idea of Brick knowing me better.
But he doesn’t know me, not really. And neither does Chloe—even though I’ve spent every free moment with her this week. For all the prattling she does, Chloe doesn’t ask dangerous questions. Brick asked a few, but I dodged them. When he pressed me, I pulled out my tough-girl look and that stopped him easily enough. Now he sticks to lighter topics.
It’s so weird. The hours I’ve spent lounging in Chloe’s canary yellow bedroom or tasting her dad’s odd recipes in the big country kitchen exist in stark contrast to my depraved reality with Judd and Ayla down the road. I’ve played my role with Judd perfectly, though, working late nights in the cellar and acting extra grateful for every bite of food just so I can keep my small freedoms. I’m living a double life—and I’m not even sure which one is the sham. But I’m determined to make it all last. Maybe, if I’m careful, I can make it last until I finish high school and get released from my contract with Judd. One day at a time.
“To a new year,” Chloe says, raising an orange M&M in the air for a toast.
I tap her M&M with a blue one of my own. “To new beginnings.”
Instead of knocking on the Mastersons’ door, I sit down on one of the steps leading from their driveway to the side entrance. These steps are long and shallow so my knees almost touch my chin, making me feel like a little girl on a big couch. I arrived early, and now I’m seriously questioning my choice of clothing. I yank down the edges of my gray T-shirt and tug at the top of my black combat boots. They stick out from under my bohemian skirt like a soldier in camouflage.
The door opens and a cheerful voice floats through the dewy air, “What’re you doing out here all alone, Andrea? Come on in. The kids are finishing breakfast.”
I twist around and look up into Pete Masterson’s twinkling eyes, peeking out beneath bushy white brows. He’s impossible to refuse, so I stand up, duck under his arm, and follow the voices into the kitchen. Brick, Chloe, and her mom are all seated at the table prodding their forks at what looks like scrambled eggs mixed with…kale?
“Help yourself.” Mr. Masterson gestures to the table.
“Yes,” Brick says wryly, pushing back his chair. “Please help us out, Andrea, and eat as much as you can stomach.” Before he walks away, I see that his plate is still full of the green stuff. I suppress a smile.
Mr. Masterson waves him off. “Oh, don’t listen to him. He’s too used to fried chicken and pork sausage. His mother ruined him with all that down-home southern cooking.”
I grin, but Brick keeps walking, deadpan. I watch his back disappear into the great room. When I return my gaze to the table, the atmosphere has changed. Chloe stares fixedly at her plate and her dad shakes his head, his smile erased. My eyebrows crease in confusion. That’s when Chloe’s mom, Lillian, perks up. “So, Andrea, are you all ready for your first day?”
“I think so. I’m just glad I don’t have to walk in alone.” I glance at Chloe.
“Me, too.” She stands up and carries her plate over to the sink. Then she snatches her bag and calls over her shoulder, “Tell Brick we’ll be in the car!”
Before we can slip away, Mrs. Masterson rushes over and gives Chloe a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. Chloe shrugs off her mother’s affections, but I watch it all closely while an ache of longing riddles through my body. “Make it a great day, you two,” she says as we leave.
Chloe seems subdued as we walk to Brick’s Explorer. “We have the same lunch, right?” I ask, even though I know we do. I’m just trying to bring Chloe back from wherever she went because it doesn’t look like a happy place. It bothers me—Chloe and sadness don’t seem right together.
“Yeah. Let’s meet outside the cafeteria so we can walk in together.”
“Okay. I’ll be coming from trig, right down the hall,” I tell her.
“With Brick?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, but I doubt Brick will sit with us. He’s a senior, after all, and apparently Mr. Popular. I hope Chloe doesn’t get upset when he chooses to hang with kids in his own grade. I’ll just have to distract her again.
We climb into the car and I lean over the front seat. “Are you nervous?”
She turns sideways to face me. “No. Yes. I don’t know. What to expect, I mean. I was ostracized for most of last year.”
I’m about to ask what exactly made her so unpopular when Brick opens the driver’s side door and slides in. He seems pensive as well, and I’m totally confused. I’m supposed to be the moody one in this trio.
About halfway to school, Brick snaps out of it and slaps his hand down on the seat. “First day of high school, Chlo. It’s a big deal,” he says cheerfully.
“Yep.” Her voice is significantly less cheerful.
“Hey, don’t be nervous. Just be yourself. Trust me, it’s not like junior high. And if any of those kids from last year bother you, they’ll answer to me.”
Chloe doesn’t reply, but I think it’s sweet of Brick to try and pump up his cousin like that. I don’t expect him to turn the charm on me, though. “You’ll do fine, too, Andrea. I was new last year, and everyone was real friendly.”
That’s because you’ve got that cute Southern accent, I think.
“Just watch out for the football players,” he warns. “Some of them like to make bets on who’ll snag the new girls first.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, but what I think is, No one will be betting on me.
And of course, I’m right. As soon as I’m away from Chloe and Brick, I make my eyes cool and aloof, my gait purposeful and disinterested. Body language is a powerful tool. Nobody bothers me for long. Anytime one of the arrogant guys struts toward me, I fix him with a glare that could turn blood to ice. And if that doesn’t work, I slip out my middle finger. They all turn away, either in surprise or anger. One guy whispers, “bitch” under his breath.
It’s not until trigonometry, when Brick plops into the desk next to mine, that my eyes soften. “How’s it going so far?” he wants to know.
“Good. But you don’t have to look out for me. I’m not your cousin,” I say, letting him off the hook.
Brick gives me a strange look and says, “No, but you’re my friend.”
His friend. The word throw
s me. I mean, really throws me, since it’s coming straight from his mouth and not from my imagination, and because Chloe told me Brick was picky about people. It throws me so much that I miss the first few minutes of what our teacher is saying. I look stupid when she stops at my desk to ask me a question and I have to stammer, “Uh, sorry, I was lost for a minute. Can you repeat the question?”
“Your name, dear?” Ms. Sampson enunciates carefully, and the room ripples with laughter.
Flustered, I mumble, “Andrea. Hathaway.”
She looks down at her clipboard. “Ah, yes. Says here you’re a junior. And new to Belmont.”
“Yeah. I went to Essex last year.”
She nods. “Well, I’ll have to ensure that you find our curriculum every bit as challenging as what you’re used to.”
“Great,” I say with all sincerity. “I’m counting on it.”
I don’t realize how pompous I sound until I see the open mouths of the students around me. Someone on my right stage-whispers, “Suck up.”
Ms. Sampson chooses to ignore it. “Nice to see a student with some gusto on day one,” she says with a smile. “But try not to get lost again, Miss Hathaway. Trig can be tricky.”
I nod, then glance at Brick. His mouth is pinched closed, but if eyes could laugh, his would be rolling on the floor. I blow out a deep, humiliated breath and flip open my book.
Trigonometry is tricky. And I do have to pay attention because Ms. Sampson teaches at lightning speed. I’m dizzy by the time class ends and, judging by the frazzled faces around me, so are the other kids. As the bell rings, Ms. Sampson writes our homework assignment on the board—pages 4-10, odd numbers. There are many grumbles about so much homework on the first day of school, but I don’t mind.
As Brick and I pack up, Ms. Sampson says to the most vocal whiner, “Mr. Barnes, if you would like something to complain about, I’d be happy to assign you the odd and even numbers tonight.” The guy’s face turns as red as his hair as he mumbles that that won’t be necessary. The rest of the class falls silent.
All Out of Pretty Page 13
