In the bags were three school uniforms complete with vests, skirts, blouses, pants, black Mary-Janes, knee high socks, and two riding uniforms with boots. In a small bag was a toothbrush, hair brush, and some hair clips and hair bands. It wasn’t a lot, and I didn’t have makeup, but I wouldn’t have to wear elaborate gowns until my express deliveries came.
I got dressed in a sensible uniform, fixed my hair, and headed to breakfast, taking Señor Mort along, riding on my shoulder under my enormous hair. I needed my own conditioner to keep it from the unkempt, wild curls of an eighteenth-century peasant.
Drake was sitting at a table in the corner, but stood when he saw me. He gestured to me to come then lifted the straps of my bag. I went directly to him, ignoring the looks and the whispers as I walked. I licked my lips while I stood there, hesitating until he pushed the other chair out with his foot, now wearing boots that were a little equestrian to match his jacket.
“Sit down. Eat. I got everything so you can eat what you want.”
I looked at the table, the eggs benedict, crepes, soufflé, plates of hash browns, scrambled eggs and waffles.
I sank down in the seat and proceeded to eat. I fed bits to Señor Mort when he poked his nose out of my hair.
“You brought your boyfriend.”
I shrugged because my mouth was full. I ate until I felt a little bit less hollow. “Thanks for bringing my bag.” I held out my hand for it.
He handed it over but held onto the strap when I tried to stand up, pulling me back down. “The thing is, I’m kind of curious, Penny, why you would rather that I think you’re emotionally overwrought about a cat more than being vandalized and victimized.”
I stared at him, desperate for a lollipop that was in my bag. I also felt slightly nauseous while he stared at me with his eyes narrowing, and I started to get angry.
I forced a bright smile. “I’m so sorry that I ruined the story. It would be much better to talk about the shocking attack, but I am much sadder about Poppy than I am about my room. It’s incredibly frustrating that I’ll lose some time, but that’s all it is, stuff, time.
As for what you think about me, you don’t owe me your good thoughts and while they would be nice, I don’t expect them. I wish you hadn’t found me like that.” I stared down at the mess of mostly empty dishes. I should have plucked out his eyes and thrown them to the wild weasels. “I’m not usually so emotional.”
“It must be PMS. You’re a woman. As the weaker sex, you can’t help it.”
I sucked in a breath and glared at him, yanking my bag out of his hand so hard that the strap broke. His lips twitched and some lollipops fell out onto the floor. I bent down
to retrieve them while he watched me, his eyes full of something dangerous while he struggled not to laugh at me. It was like he wanted me to eviscerate him, like he was intentionally goading me.
I took a shaky breath and stood, clutching the lollipops in my hand. “That must be it.
Thank you for enlightening me. If you’ll excuse me, I have tears to cry and men to hate.”
I held out my hand for the bag that he still held. He stood up and slung it over his shoulder with the remaining strap.
“I’ll walk with you. I’m very easy to hate if you need a handsome, irresistible target.”
I exhaled, ignoring the way that people looked at me, girls, guys, everyone watching me with Drake so closely. “What are they looking at?” I murmured.
“Maybe they want another show like the time with the malt. Or maybe they’re waiting for you to go crazy and attack me with your beady-eyed friend.”
I glanced at him. “Why are you walking with me again?”
“Maybe I want to look at you and imagine you in that robe from earlier. It’s easier to visualize when you’re right in front of me.”
I stiffened and at the same time my stomach tightened. “Why do you say that?”
“Why not?”
“If your purpose is to shock and revolt me, that’s fine, but you’re calling me good looking which I might find complimentary, so are you trying to attract me or repel me?
Both? Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you have no purpose other than shock value. I just don’t understand you.”
Silence spread between us for a few heart beats until he finally spoke. “Do you want to understand me?”
I glanced over at him and then away. “What I want isn’t important.”
“Why not, Penny? Maybe it’s the most important thing of all.”
I stopped for a moment. What did I want? I wanted to run away from here and my family and never have to deal with any of them ever again. I wanted to hide from the memories of Poppy and the knowledge that if I didn’t marry somebody, anybody, my mother certainly wasn’t particular, I’d be responsible for at best, making my mother homeless, at worst, killing her if she still refused to leave the house. I wanted to scream and scream and scream until the sound had shattered all the things in my life that didn’t make sense.
Most importantly, I didn’t want to become worse than my mother, someone who had sacrificed her life for mine. If I couldn’t do that, marry a perfectly nice boy in order to save her, I may as well light this school on fire and watch everyone and me burn, because there wouldn’t be anything inside of me worth saving, worth redemption.
I gave him my brightest smile. “Thank you for reminding me, Drake. It’s important to remember what you want, isn’t it? I hope that you’ll always be my friend.”
I smiled for the rest of the walk, swishing my skirt and looking up at him sweetly with my lollipop in my mouth. Lavender and dirt. I had to get moving on Zach, and Drake needed a different girl to play with.
Chapter 17
How to get Zach to marry me. I thought about that while I sewed a new wardrobe, sewing machine courtesy of Professor Vale. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the standard school uniform, except that I didn’t. What did Zach like? Languages. Horses. Video games. All things I knew nothing about. Well, I could appreciate what he did know and cultivate some new skills in the process, like video gaming. It wouldn’t be that bad, except that it was a complete waste of time when my time was already so precious.
If I lost my business during this ridiculous mission I would have a lot to say to dearly departed Grandmama in the afterlife. Señor Mort perched on my shoulder while I hemmed my third identical school skirt, just a shade paler than the usual beige, a little more creamsicle than blah.
It was Sunday afternoon and I was still waiting for my express deliveries to arrive that would restore order and peace to my life. Ha. Like anything in my life would ever be ordered again. I stood up, stretched, tucked Señor into his makeshift cage and smoothed down my flippy skirt and simple top that were still fairly cute. At least I had my cute shoes and I hadn’t ruined them during my woodland walk. Freak out. I flinched at the memory, me looking like… I couldn’t even think about it, and Drake rescuing me like a romance hero from some novel. Poppy used to read those. No wonder she made such poor choices in her life. Telenovelas were so much more inspiring.
I stuck one of my last lollipops in my mouth and left my room, ready to sacrifice some precious hours learning the art of the video game.
I sucked. I was worse at it than at horse riding, and that was saying something. It was worse than boring, humiliating, while Viney and Zach smirked at me while I sat there, dead for the thirty-seventh time and they were still fighting each other and zombies and aliens or whatever. Who cared?
“Thanks for letting me play. I’m going to dinner now.” Or else I’m killing you like a zombie alien bonbon you did not see coming.
Zach bothered to look at me for a half second before he turned back to his thrilling game.
Awesome. He was like a zombie. Boring. Why wasn’t he running around in the woods rescuing females? He could ride up on his horse all gorgeous and stuff… Not that he hadn’t been truly great with my whole room mess, but this was ridiculous.
In the dining room, everyone was
whispering and the whole hum was very excited, my name mixing with Jackson, Drake, and someone else, Wit? I kept hearing it, ‘Jackson and wit’ like he was trying to have wit but had failed, but Jackson was definitely bringing wit back to school, and he might speak mean boy fluently, but wit, probably not.
“Sit with me.”
I froze while Drake grabbed my elbow, steering me to the side table. He pushed me down on one side and sat on the other. “I think Jackson did it.”
I stared at him. He was talking about my room. It made sense, but didn’t seem to match his personality. “I don’t think he has enough clever dialogue to be considered a wit.” I stood up and he pulled me back down, impatient. He wasn’t the only one. I did not need to think about Jackson or whoever had messed with my stuff, not when I didn’t have enough lollipops to take me through another homicide free week.
“Witley. Jackson is bringing her to school because he knows that I know that he did it.”
I stared at him. “That’s nice. I’m so glad you told me.”
He frowned. “Don’t you want to know who trashed your room?”
I smiled. “It would be nice if whoever did it was caught so they couldn’t do it to anyone else, but it’s not my job.”
He leaned forward. “But whoever did that won’t do that to another person but something else to you. You’re not serious about letting people walk all over you, are you? Because, I can’t do that.”
I stood up quickly, moving far enough away that he couldn’t grab me and drag me back over to him. “No one asked you to do anything, Drake. I appreciate your interest in the mystery of the bedroom debacle, but I have a lot of other things to worry about, mostly stupid things like how to play video games.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You want to play video games? With who?”
I shook my head. “Zach and Viney and I think everyone else at school. I think I stand out too much, but at the same time, I’m cute, aren’t I?”
He smirked. “Very cute. So does the guy you like like cute or something a little more…”
A silence descended on the dining room other than a slight rustling and then a laugh, the kind of throaty chuckle a woman on Telenovelas made before she declared that she’d stolen your husband and made him hers. I turned and saw a girl who could
have stepped straight from a drama, oodles of black hair in luscious waves, perfect oval face with a tiny pointed chin, and a luscious mouth that matched her large and luminous eyes. Her makeup was perfectly vixen without being quite too ho. Jackson walked beside her, a smirk on his annoying face.
Drake cursed behind me, a series of colorful profanities that I tried to remember. This must be Witley, the mysterious girl who had caused such a furor. She walked right up to me, glancing from me where I stood to Drake where he still sat, sprawled back like he didn’t care one way or another who had arrived be it the pope or a green alien.
“Hi, I’m Penny.” I smiled at her, but I didn’t have my lollipop, so I wasn’t quite as bubbly as usual. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Zach didn’t like bubbly. I needed a friend, a girl type friend who knew what guys liked. The way that guys looked at this girl, she certainly knew, but the way that she looked at me, she wouldn’t be sharing any helpful advice, unless it was how to light myself on fire. I already knew how to do that.
“Penny. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re the girl Drake broke Jackson’s arm for, right?”
Jackson glared at Drake and his supple lips twisted, soft lips that looked a lot like hers. Did he botox them?
I laughed. “That’s so funny. I’m sure Drake would like to give that impression. He’s too cruel sometimes, isn’t he? I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
“Witley Penmore. You look like you’re on your way out. By all means.” She made little shooing motions with her hand, and it took all my strength not to grab those fingers and snap them one by one.
“I’m going to go and get my food, but I’m eating here. Why don’t you two pull up chairs. It will be so nice to get to know Jackson’s girlfriend.”
I left the three there, staring at me, feeling Drake’s eyes burn into my back, or maybe I was imagining things. Probably. I swished my skirt big time as I left Jackson and Witley with Drake. Drake had better be looking at my legs, not some perfectly made up hot thing. Not that I cared.
I got everything carbs and rich sauce and decadent meat plus a lot of salad and vegetables and… okay. I got a lot of food, but I’d skipped lunch trying to get my homework done and my stuff ordered and my uniforms sewn along with current cute if not quite as cute as usual outfit.
When I got back to the table, there was an empty chair right next to Drake. I should have found a different seat, but I’d announced I was sitting there like a lunatic, thanks to Witley’s aggressive femme fatale vibes, so I may as well learn something from the experience.
“Did you eat yet?” I asked as I settled next to Drake, noticing that he had no food.
Would I have to share?
He seemed to see the fear in my eyes and a slight smile flicked over his mouth. “I ate earlier. I was just sitting here, waiting for you to come in.” He put an arm over the back of my chair, leaning over to give me a smoldering glance that made my idiotic heart pound.
I gave a choking laugh and then started eating. I realized that they weren’t talking and glanced up to see all three of them staring at me. I chewed what was in my mouth then gave a nervous smile.
“You’re so thin and hungry. Did they starve you at home?”
I stared at Witley, the barely veiled mockery in her eyes. “Yes. They did. It was completely cruel. In fact my last dinner home was herbed chicken, five servings of cheese, two soufflés, a beef stew along with the usual courses. How is a girl supposed to live on that? I’ve put in complaints with the local authorities, but minors have so few rights.”
I sighed heavily while Drake choked on a laugh and coughed, trying to clear his throat. I gave him a few solid thumps on his back for putting his arm on the back of my chair. He only leered at me. I restrained myself from kicking him under the table.
Whitley laughed, that same throaty laugh that put up my hackles. She put her hand on my arm and I smiled at her sweetly instead of stabbing her with my tightly clutched fork.
“You are adorable. I can see why Drake is so fascinated with you.”
I blinked at her then glanced at Drake before I gave her a particularly sweet smile.
“It’s the legs. Apparently Drake is a legs kind of guy. Who knew, right? I mean you’d think he’d prefer someone with a perfect hour-glass body, immaculately beautiful face and hair that just fell off the pages of a two spread shampoo ad, but no, he likes legs.
Isn’t that crazy? Particularly if you look at this hair.” I shook my head vigorously and my hair kind of fluffed out like an untrimmed poodle. “Who can possibly predict what a guy’s going to like? It’s so bewildering. And there’s the issue of if you want a guy who likes you as you are, or if you’d rather get the guy that you like how he is, and change yourself to fit him. Which is more important, being yourself, or having the one you want? I don’t know. This whole experience is completely alien to me. I’m used to hiding in my garret and making miniature clothing for the rodents.”
Whitley inhaled sharply while Jackson glowered and Drake’s expression went perfectly smooth. I shrugged and focused back on my food, ignoring the rest of the table until I was sated. Not quite sated. I wanted a chunk out of Witley’s perfect face for dessert.
I wiped my mouth on a napkin and stood. “It’s been such a pleasure to meet you. I hope I have you in all my classes.”
I turned to go, but Drake stood with me, sliding his arm in mine. “So nice to see you two. Congrats on your new relationship. I hope you find it as satisfying as he does, Wit.”
He thunked Jackson on the shoulder before he walked off with me.
I looked up at him, sighed, and shook my head. I should not let him walk around like he was my male
escort, but that girl made me want to do crazy things, like walk with Drake.
He quirked an eyebrow. “What kind of girl does the guy you want like?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he doesn’t like girls. I hadn’t thought of that, but a gender switch for me wouldn’t be too difficult. I would probably miss the hair, but the jackets for boys are much more interesting, and the vests and the sensible shoes…”
“So you admit that you like someone.”
I giggled. “Of course, I like lots of people. I’m sorry about that back there. I think my cruel vengeful streak came out again. It’s a lucky thing she didn’t dump something on me that you were allergic to. I know you don’t really like me or my legs.”
His arm tightened on me. “Everyone likes your legs, even Jackson who otherwise thinks you’re an evil harpy.”
“A bit redundant since all harpies are evil, aren’t they?” I sighed. “I’m not nearly as good at language roots as I should be. Why are people so talented at this school?”
He glanced at me and smiled. “You’ve been here one week. Put these people in your world and what would they do?”
I cocked my head at him. “Oh, dear. That wouldn’t be very good.”
My mother would kill them all. Yes, yes she would. Even Revere who was technically polite had a streak of cruelty a mile long. I would never leave Señor Mort with him. He’d probably roast him for my first dinner back or something.
“No? What was the hardest thing about living at home?”
I shook my head. That was easy, walking past the waiting soldier every time I went to dinner. “Probably just being lonely. Not that Señor Mort isn’t great, but tea parties are kind of fun with real people.”
He nudged me, his side brushing mine and sending completely unnecessary shocks of awareness through me. “I think that was almost a compliment, Penny Lane. I’ll take it.”
Chapter 18
I researched, ‘how to get a guy to like you’ and came up with a few promising ideas, very few. First, I had to do research, find out his secret weakness, the one thing that was
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