by Emma Doherty
I don’t argue with her. She does seem to know an awful lot about Ethan, probably more than I do anyway.
She grins at me good-naturedly. “Trust me, you’ll get it when you see them. They’re the reason half the school shows up every day.” She hesitates. “Although I’m pretty sure you’ll know them a lot better than I do soon.”
What? “Why do you say that?”
Her eyes widen at my tone. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she says, holding up her arms in surrender. “I just mean that you’re…well, you’re—”
“I’m what?” I bite out.
She blushes an even brighter red than she did earlier. “Well, you’re really, really pretty.”
My jaw drops open. That I wasn’t expecting.
“You’re like the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
I won’t even be close to the prettiest girl she’s ever seen, but I soften slightly at her tone. She’s saying it so earnestly and with so much feeling. It’s obviously just her opinion. She’s not being jealous, even if feeling pretty is the least of my worries these days.
“And I just mean there’s no way half the football team hasn’t heard about you by now.”
What the hell?
At the look on my face, she shrugs. “It’s just the way it works around here. We don’t really get new kids that often, especially when we’re already a couple weeks into senior year, and they never look like you. People will definitely be talking about it.”
“That makes no sense. You just told me this school has over two thousand kids. No one will even notice me.”
“Yeah, but we’ve all known each other forever because this is the only school for the area.”
I try to hold back my sound of irritation. I don’t succeed.
She looks apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was trying to let you know how things work here.”
I look her straight in the eye. “I can promise you now I don’t give a damn about the football team and what they think about me.”
Her eyes widen at my tone, but I don’t wait for her to speak. Instead I stand up and make my way down the steps, only pausing for her to catch up once we hit the bottom. Silently we start making our way back to the school. When we’re almost back at the main building, she pauses, and I turn to her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her voice is so quiet that I immediately feel bad for snapping at her, and I shake my head. She didn’t offend me. I have my own issues with the way I’m treated because of my looks, and I hate the thought of the school football team. Rightly or wrongly, I associate them with Ethan, with his want to be over here and his absence when I needed him. None of that has anything to do with Pippa. She was just being nice.
“You didn’t, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
She nods and then goes to say something but is stopped when a loud whistle sounds. We both turn, looking for where it came from, and when another sounds, we both look up towards the top of the building where she showed me the science labs were situated earlier. A group of guys is hanging out of the window—most of them wearing matching jackets that identify them as athletes—and they’re staring down at us.
Or staring at me. They’re definitely staring at me.
“Friends of yours?” I ask dryly.
She chuckles. “Hardly.” She glances back up at them before turning back to me. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
I raise an eyebrow. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
She smirks. “That’s half the seniors on the football team.”
The bell rings, and it kicks Pippa into action. Before I have time to ask her any more questions or say anything else, she’s pulled my schedule from my hands, figured out that I have history next, and is hustling me inside, down the hallway, and up another set of stairs as all the classrooms let out and students spill into the halls. All the time she keeps up a steady chatter about what else she thinks I need to know about Northview, but I barely hear her. Instead I try to focus on ignoring all the curious looks and glances I’m getting, and I know she’s right. It’s not easy being the new girl, not here, and I hate it—and I hate that I hate it. I’m not supposed to care about this at all, especially not enough to be affected by a few strange looks.
She stops dead in front of me and I bang into her from behind. “What’s wrong?”
She spins to face me. “That’s Ethan Carlington over there,” she hisses under her breath. “Finn and their boys are with him.” Her face is a little flushed and she’s ducking down as if to make sure he doesn’t see her. I glance down the corridor and see him stood at the end. He’s surrounded by people, and objectively speaking, I can see why she has such an obvious crush on my brother. He’s attractive, really attractive, but it’s not just that; it’s his whole attitude, like he knows he’s got everything anyone could possibly want and hasn’t got a concern in the world. He’s relaxed and he’s smiling, and it just looks like he has the whole world at his feet. I guess he does.
He’s talking to the dark-haired boy from the banner, Finn, and laughing at something he says before shoving him away. It’s easy to see why Pippa says they run this place. They’re a formidable duo, Finn the brunette to Ethan’s blond, and they complement each other. I can see that even from over here. Pippa is next to me, still whispering something to me, but I’m not listening. Instead I’m watching Ethan. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my twin look so happy and relaxed. It’s like nothing’s ever gone wrong for him, like his life is perfect, and I feel bitter. I feel bitter that he’s living this great life whilst I’ve gone through hell since she died.
“Are you okay?” Pippa asks. She’s looking at me nervously. “You look really angry.” I’m being unreasonable. I know that. I know I can’t judge how Ethan feels about our mum’s death by seeing a snapshot of him with his friends in the hall, but I can’t help it. I can’t help it because it’s easier to be angry about him than it is to deal with the hurt of thinking about her.
I clear my throat. “Is that Finn with him?”
She nods as we both watch a cheerleader—maybe the auburn-haired one from earlier?—approach them and sidle up to Finn. She says something to him whilst stroking his arm, but he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head at her. I can see she’s not happy about it, even from all the way over here. I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure she’s the girl who made Pippa feel like crap earlier. “Who’s that beside him?”
Pippa turns away, indicating that I should follow her back down a corridor, luckily away from Ethan. “That’s Lila,” she whispers, and just the fact that she’s whispering, too scared to speak about her at a normal volume means this girl has given her a hard time before. “She and Finn dated all of sophomore year and into junior year but they broke up. Then she went off with this other guy in our grade who has a bunch of money, he dumped her, and now she wants to get back with Finn. She has for a while, but I don’t think he’s interested.”
How the hell does she know all this stuff?
She laughs at the look on my face. “Honestly, wait until you’re here for a couple of weeks and then you’ll get it. Gossip follows those guys around like the plague.”
The bell rings a second time and Pippa starts moving at a faster pace. She pulls me down a separate corridor, down some stairs, and deposits me outside the classroom for my history class. Then she wishes me luck and rushes off whilst the last few kids sweep into the classroom. I look around. Even at this point, I’m considering if I can leave, but then I take a deep breath, straighten my spine, and walk in, pretending I don’t feel all eyes on me.
The teacher looks over to me, and I force an indifferent look on my face as I hand over the slip they gave me in the main office. The teacher glances at it and then looks back up with a big smile. “Welcome Miss Kavanagh.”
I swallow hard and try to force a smile, but it’s difficult when I can feel so much scrutiny on me.
“I
’m Mr. Dyson. Grab one of those spare seats in the middle.”
I bite my lip then glance in the direction he’s indicated, and my stomach rolls when I recognise Finn and a couple of the other guys Ethan was just talking to in the hallway. My eyes dart around quickly, but Ethan’s not in this class, to my relief. The last thing I need to deal with right now is him.
I go to take a step towards one of the empty seats then Mr. Dyson stops me. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. Why don’t you introduce yourself to everyone? Say where you’re from and help us get to know you.”
I freeze and slowly turn back to face him, certain the horror I feel is written all over my face. Surely he can’t be serious…
He nods encouragingly, and I force myself to turn and face the class. It’s not as if I’m shy as such, but I’m not outgoing either. Ethan’s the one who got that trait from our mum. My style is more to sit back and take people in, do things in my own way. Clearly that’s not about to happen in this situation.
I stand up straighter and force a bored expression on my face. I can’t show them I’m feeling nervous, because then they’ll know they can have some power over me. One thing I’ve learnt over the last year is to never let them see that they can upset you. Never give someone that power over you, because if someone has power over you, they can abuse it—my father being the perfect example.
I glance back at the teacher once, but when he merely smiles, waiting for me to speak, I realise there’s no way out of this. “My name is Izzy Kavanagh,” I start before I’m interrupted from the back when a guy Finn is sat next to lets out a groan.
“Day-um. That accent!”
Mr. Dyson turns to look at him sharply. “Mr. Timmer, that’s enough.”
I glance at him, and he sends me a wink. I narrow my eyes, giving him my most withering stare.
Mr. Dyson turns back to me. “Sorry, Izzy. Some people need to learn to control themselves. You can continue.”
Continue with what? After another moment, it’s clear he’s not going to let me sit down until I’ve told them something about myself. “I just moved here from London.”
“London? Wonderful city. What brings you to Texas?”
I clear my throat. “My dad lives here.”
He looks surprised, like he should know of any new family in town. “Has he just moved to the area?”
There’s not a chance they don’t know who my dad is, but I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than admit who my father is right now in front of them all.
“Uh, yeah. He moves around a lot.”
For some reason, my gaze lands on Finn, and I find his eyes already fixed on me, but it’s not the slow perusal of his male friends or the open hostility I’m getting from the blonde girl sitting to his left, who I recognise from the hallway as the other girl who made Pippa go so quiet. It’s not even the curious looks I’m getting from the other students, who are probably just grateful this little show-and-tell stops Mr. Dyson getting on with the lesson. No, he’s assessing me with intelligent eyes, narrowed slightly as he takes me in, like he can see all my secrets laid bare. He sees me looking but doesn’t stop his stare, and it’s me who looks away first.
“Have you moved here with any family? Any siblings?”
I turn back to Mr. Dyson. “No.” It’s not exactly a lie. Ethan hasn’t just moved here.
My eyes fall to the blonde at Finn’s side, the one who has her eyes narrowed on me in distaste and clearly thinks she’s something important in this place. I see her glance down at my handbag a couple of times, and I have no doubt she’s taking in the designer label. My eyes meet hers, and I stare straight back at her. I’ve made a two-second judgment about this girl based on what I saw near Pippa’s locker, but I don’t care. I do not like her.
“Anything else you think is important for us to know?” Mr. Dyson asks.
I break my stare with the blonde and turn back to the teacher, shaking my head. “Can I sit down now?”
He sighs like he’s not entirely satisfied with my introduction but nods his agreement.
I start to make my way to an empty seat, still aware that way more eyes than I would like are on me.
“There’s a spare seat right here that has your name on it, Izzy.” The guy from before—Timmer or something—tells me, gesturing to the chair in front of him.
Finn turns and scowls at him. “Knock it off.”
I drop into the first seat I come to, which is as far away from Timmer and his friends as possible, and he chuckles, like my choosing to sit away from him is some game I’m playing. I slump down in my chair, trying to sink into oblivion and hoping not every class I have today will begin with an introduction to the new girl.
I try to concentrate but give up after two minutes. I give up because I can feel the gaze of the people behind me latched onto me, and I want to scream because it’s happened. It’s actually happened: I’m stuck in this damn school for the next nine months, and there’s not a single thing I can do about it.
Forty-two words. She’s said forty-two words to me since Sunday night.
I counted.
She didn’t stir when I tried to wake her up on Monday, and she wasn’t in when I got home. I tried ringing her on the cell number Casey gave me for hours, but she didn’t answer. Then I got in my car and drove all over town looking for her, but it was pointless. I couldn’t find her anywhere, and where would she even be? She didn’t know where to go.
She turned up the next day acting like I was inconveniencing her for being concerned and like she couldn’t understand why I would possibly be worried about her. Then she said that thing about not answering phone calls, and I felt like I’d been physically slapped.
She’s never mentioned that before, never discussed it even when I have, but she’s clearly not forgotten it, is clearly not ready to discuss it.
In fact, she’s not ready to discuss anything with me. When I went to visit her in the UK at the start of summer, I tried to talk to her about Mum, tried to get her to open up. I tried desperately to have a conversation about it because I miss her so much it physically hurts and I know Izzy is the only person who will get it, but my sister would barely tolerate me with a hello, let alone an actual conversation.
I know my mum’s friend Richard was trying to look out for her, but he’s a nurse who does shift work and is never at home. He didn’t have a clue what she was getting up to, and as much as he wanted to help, he didn’t have time to deal with a grieving teenage girl who was and still is intent on doing whatever she could to try to numb the pain rather than actually deal with Mum’s death.
And then when I went into her room one day and found a bunch of cocaine? Well then I booked the first flight home, turned up at my dad’s office in New York, and demanded he do something about Izzy because I was genuinely scared about what I’d seen in London. She wasn’t just the stubborn girl who was pissed at me anymore, wasn’t just someone who ignored me as best she could when I was visiting and was so far removed from the best friend of my childhood. No, now she was an empty shell who was going through the motions and trying to destroy herself in the process. I was genuinely scared she wouldn’t make it to Christmas unless someone stepped in.
My dad’s solution? Book her a flight and force her to live over here.
I’m not surprised she hates him so much, but I convinced myself when I found out she’d actually made the flight, when she was actually on the plane over here and I was driving to the airport to pick her up that this could be my opportunity to look out for her and try to sort out our relationship, to try to get my sister back.
Turns out she has no interest in that at all.
It’s not even that I think she hates me. I don’t think she cares enough to hate me. She’s just completely disinterested, completely vacant when I’m around. She’s made it very clear that she has no intention of trying to make the most of her time over here and is just counting down the days until we turn eighteen and she can return to the UK as an adult.
The only interaction I’ve had with her all week is passing her on the stairs or when she’s come in wasted and has banged open doors and then spent the next couple of hours throwing her guts up. I genuinely don’t know what’s happened to the sister I knew. I don’t know where she’s been going or what she’s been doing. I do know she’s not been driving her car, which I guess is a relief. The last thing I need to be worrying about is her driving drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m worrying about her—constantly.
“Ethan, you okay?”
My attention snaps back to Matty, one of my closest friends from the football team, and I nod my head as I try to drag my thoughts away from Izzy. I haven’t told any of my friends she’s here in town. I’m not quite sure why, maybe because I know they’d want to meet her and I can’t handle them seeing the relationship we have now. I know I’ll have to if she eventually turns up at school, but right now I’d prefer it if they didn’t know my sister hates me. I have some great friends here, I know that, and Finn is like a brother to me. My friends are my family, but sometimes when it’s game day and all their families turn up to see them, I can’t help but feel like they must pity me when I have no family there. And that’s another reason I can’t stand the thought of them knowing how Izzy feels about me—I don’t want their pity.
How did this happen? How did things get like this between us?
“Ethan? What’s going on? You’ve been weird all week.”
I clear my throat as Matty tosses the textbooks he doesn’t need into his locker and grabs the one he does for the next lesson.
Finn comes strolling down the corridor and beside him is Logan, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. My stomach growls and I glance down at my watch: one hour until lunch. How is it only 11.00? I’m already starving.
“Did you hear?” Logan asks us immediately, his face lit up like it’s Christmas morning.
Matty glances over at him, closing his locker and picking his bag up off the ground. “Hear what?”
