by Brooke Moss
But now we were closing in on two months, and Paula and John still hadn’t gotten sick of me yet.
“I…” I swallowed, my throat feeling dry and thick. “I don’t know what to say.”
Paula’s face fell. And though she covered it up with a kind smile fast enough, I still saw it. “Okay,” she said. “That’s fine. We can talk about it more next week. That’s when Lori’s next home visit will be.”
Wincing, I picked up my plate and fidgeted with my dirty fork. Lori was my social worker, and she was as pumped about this adoption as the Coulters were. “Uh, okay.”
John reached out and covered his wife’s hand. “Posey, do you still want to be adopted?”
I turned my back to the family, and started to fill the sink with soapy water. How did I tell John that I’d never even considered being adopted? Once Rory and Julian were adopted, and I hit my teens still bouncing from place to place, I’d given up all hope of being a part of a normal family. Now the fact that the Coulters wanted me made me unbearably uncomfortable.
“I don’t think she wants to be adopted.” Tabitha used a napkin to wipe her hands off. “Does that mean we won’t get to have a party?”
“That sucks,” Micah grumbled. “I wanted a party.”
Cooper looked up from his food. “No party?”
“Shhh.” Paula ruffled his white blonde hair. “Guys, we don’t know anything yet. Why don’t we give Posey some time to process everything.”
“She’s had since August.” Jessa nudged Lacey. “Maybe working with Drew Baxter will make her want to stay in Twisted Tree.”
Lacey giggled. “It would convince me.”
My stomach churned as I stared down at the bubbles. If anything, tutoring Drew Baxter made me want to hitch a ride back to Seattle and never look back. He represented everything I hated about other teenagers. Snobby, cocky, borderline stupid. I missed the people downtown, where nobody cared who you were or who your parents were. Where you could be as anonymous as you wanted to be. It was impossible to be anonymous in a town like Twisted Tree. Or in a family like the Coulters’, and I had no idea how to process being so incredibly important to these people.
“Like you two would have a chance with someone like Drew Baxter.” Micah rolled his eyes and tossed his napkin across the table. “You’re dreaming.”
Jessa’s mouth dropped. “What? I’ll have you know that he said hello to me in the hallway last week.”
“Shut up.” Micah stood up. “He did not.”
“Don’t say shut up,” scolded John. “And you all need to leave Posey alone about this. This is a big change for her to process.”
You got that right. My heart was pounding, and my chest felt tight. The big farmhouse kitchen suddenly felt short on oxygen, and I longed to run outside in the icy fresh air. A big change for me to process?
Try a huge freaking deal that made me feel like my head was going to explode.
“Well, I think she should be happy.” Jessa stood up, and pressed a kiss to her dad’s cheek. “Who wouldn’t want to be a part of our family? We’re awesome.”
Paula laughed. “Yeah? You think so?”
Their voices started to blend together, back into that TV noise from the beginning of the meal. Sweat pricked underneath my arms. I had to get out of this place. Like, now.
Jerking my hands out of the soapy water, I felt in my pockets for my iPod and dove for the back door.
“I… I need to go!” I blurted. Everyone turned and looked at me, so I ducked my head and let me hair block my face. “I’m sorry. I have to go for a walk now.”
The fall air slapped me in the face as I pulled the door closed with a slam behind me.
Chapter Five
Him.
I walked into the library and sighed. The next hour of my life was going to suck. Hard. First off, I was freaking out my dad would choose today to come watch practice early. Second, I had to hang out with Posey, and that alone made me want to bang my head against a wall.
She was already waiting for me, hunched over an iPod with her hair hanging all over the place. I don’t think I’d ever seen her face without it being obscured by that stupid hair. I didn’t even know if she had a whole face. Maybe she was shy, or something. Maybe she resembled that dude on Batman who’d had half his face obliterated by an accident. That would explain was her bitchiness.
My guess was the latter.
“You’re late.”
Her voice, husky and low in a way that would’ve been sexy on any female other than Posey, tugged me out of my thoughts. Shrugging, I sauntered to her table and tossed my backpack down with a thud. It echoed through the library, making the librarian glare at me over the top of her glasses.
“Sorry Mrs. T,” I said, ducking into my chair.
Posey didn’t look at me. She just kept staring at the screen on her iPod like it was the Holy Grail or something. “Sorry to her, but not to me?” She scoffed. “Figures.”
Well, weren’t we off to a great start? I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Why would I be sorry to you?”
Her head moved slightly and she glowered at me through her bangs. “You were three minutes late.”
Snorting, I tugged a notebook out of my backpack. “Sorry.”
“My time is important too, you know.” Posey opened the Lit book and flipped through the pages to a section of The Taming of the Shrew.
Ironic? I thought so.
“I have no doubt of that,” I said, snickering. I tried to cover my laughter up with a cough, but failed miserably. “I’m sure your social calendar is full night and day.” I made air quotes to accentuate my words, and Posey sucked in a sharp breath.
“Your sarcasm is wasted on me,” she snapped.
I looked at her and smiled lazily. I’d won over many a teacher with that smile, and more than a handful of sophomore and junior girls. “Doubtful.”
“Ugh.” She flipped another page, tearing it on the corner. “You make me sick.”
“Do I, Emo Girl?” Plucking her pencil off the table, I started twirling it on my knuckles, a skill I’d perfected while daydreaming my way through Kingston’s class last year. “I think you like it when I’m a dickhead. It feeds to your dark, depressed side. I know your type.” I raised my voice to a high-pitched whine. “I hate my life. I hate the world. Death is the only adventure. Am I right?”
Posey ducked her head again. I could see the red of her cheeks through the strands of black hair. “You are such a dick,” she hissed down at her book. “You don’t even try to hide it. I can’t believe people like you even have friends.”
I smirked. “Whatever. You wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
“You think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” Her head popped up and she glared right at me. “You think you’re so great.”
Well, color me surprised. She had a whole face. And it wasn’t half bad, either. Heart shaped super white skin, red lips without any of that gloss crap on them, and those arctic blue eyes shooting daggers at me. If she pulled the mess of hair out of her face once in a while, and maybe smiled a bit, she might actually be… pretty?
Shuddering, I dropped the pencil. What the hell was wrong with me? Posey was ugly, and rude and combative, and socially… just wrong.
“I know I’ve got it figured out.” The librarian passed our table, pressing her finger to her lips, so I dropped my voice even lower. “And I know I’m great.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, and leaned closer to me. “If you’re so great, then why are you here? Why do you need some insignificant peon like me to tutor you? Why would you lower yourself to sit at the same table as me or even be seen with me? If you’ve got it all figured out, why didn’t you just drop your last name with Mr. Kingston to get your sorry butt out of trouble? Why didn’t you just have your dad call the school to get you an A in Lit? We all know he could do it.”
My smile dropped. “You don’t know my dad.”
She sneered. “I’ve been in thi
s hell hole town long enough to know your dad’s got his thumb on everyone. I’m sure Kingston’s no exception.”
I looked out the library window. “Don’t you have some Shakespeare to talk about? You’re wasting my time.”
“No, Drew,” she spat. “You’re wasting my time. I can’t stand people like you. Or people like your dad, for that matter.”
My molars ground together. This was probably the most I’d ever heard Posey speak, and I wasn’t prepared for her to be so perceptive. She always seemed so disconnected. So sullen and pissy. I didn’t think she cared about anything going on around her, much less give a damn what was going on around this town.
Embarrassment washed over me, and I fought the urge to sink down in my chair. I hated the fact that my dad ran this town like his own personal game of chess. I hated the fact that when people heard his name, they either crapped their pants out of fear or fell all over themselves to accommodate him because he’s some sort of small town superstar. He didn’t deserve either. He was a bully with a platinum card.
But I wasn’t going to tell Posey that. I couldn’t show weakness to this loser. She didn’t need to know I hated my dad—and myself—as much as she did.
I yanked my Lit book out of my backpack, tearing the zipper. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re a rag?”
“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a pretentious jerk?”
“Has anybody ever told you that you don’t have any friends at this school for a reason?”
“Has anybody ever told you that if you weren’t a Baxter nobody would give a damn about you?”
SNAP. My pencil broke in half, and the pieces dropped to the table. “You know, I don’t think this is worth it,” I shoved my chair back with an echoing screech.
“At least we can agree on something,” Posey growled, gathering up her own things. “I’d rather flunk this class than sit across a table from you every day.”
I shoved my book back into my pack. “Sitting at a table with you wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me, either.”
Her face scrunched up, and for a second I thought she would cry. Guilt filled my chest, pressing against my ribs and making everything feel tight and uncomfortable, but I ignored it. I hated making people cry. Especially girls. But this chick was crazy, and I was done.
Finally Posey took a breath, and when she looked at me, I released a sigh of relief to see her eyes were still dry. “Then it’s decided. This tutoring thing is off.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Mrs. T clicked her tongue from across the library. “You two are going to have to keep it down, or I’m going to tell Mr. Kingston this just won’t work.”
I turned and stalked away from Posey. “No need. It’s not happening.”
A wrinkled appeared between Mrs. T’s eyebrows. “Mr. Kingston said both your grades were dependent upon—”
“Who cares?” Posey shoved past me, knocking my backpack off my shoulder. “Let Golden Boy flunk out. He gets what he deserves.”
Seriously. What a bitch. Hiking my pack up on my shoulder again, I shrugged at the librarian, as if to say, What are you gonna do?
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Miss Coulter, I suggest you discuss this with Mr. Kingston tomorrow.”
Posey looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes shooting laser beams of pure hatred at me. “I will,” she snapped. “And my name’s not Coulter.”
The door slammed behind her.
Chapter Six
Her.
I kept Mr. Kingston in my peripheral vision as I slid out of a classroom hidden in a clump of kids all checking their phones. I didn’t have a cell phone to check—Paula had offered to get me one when I came here, but I declined—I didn’t need them trying to buy me off. So while the others fiddled with their phones, I just huddled down between two guys on the wrestling team. They were big enough to hide me.
As soon as we rounded the corner, one of them looked down at me with a scowl. I think his name was Mac, and he hung out with Drew all the time.
Well, wasn’t that just ironic.
“Watch out, would you?” he snarled.
I stood upright and returned his glare. “Whatever, Neanderthal.”
Mac looked away from me, his face scrunched up like he’d taken a swig of whiskey or something. I might have heard him tell me to “F-off,” but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t really care. But my face scalded, anyway. Even though I hated the kids at this school, that didn’t mean it didn’t sting whenever they acted like I was the most repulsive thing they’d seen since the creepy little girl in The Ring. Back in Seattle, I’d had boyfriends. And they weren’t blind, for hell’s sake. I’d never considered myself ugly until I moved to Twisted Tree. Maybe they saw something in me I didn’t.
The sea of students washed past me, taking Mac with them, and leaving me in their wake. I pressed against the wall to get out of their way, and held my breath. I’d been avoiding Drew and Mr. Kingston all day, and now that I’d managed to get clear to the final bell, I just needed to get out the back door of the school to make a clean get away. I knew Mr. Kingston was going to want to talk to me and Drew absolutely didn’t want to talk to me. And even though I was used to nobody at school wanting to hang out with me, it was awkward knowing that I’d gone head to head with the crown prince of the whole school yesterday.
I knew people stared at the back of my head, and whispered when I passed in the halls. Even more so than usual. Instead of speculating about my participation in witchcraft or cults, the student body was now in a rage at my audacity. How dare that loser insult Drew Baxter? Doesn’t she know her place around here?
I spent the day looking over my shoulder as if there was a price on my head. Maybe there was. Twisted Tree had some pretty rich families, being an island and a vacation destination and all.
“Posey?”
As soon as I heard Mr. Kingston’s voice behind me, I slapped my hand to my forehead. Busted.
I turned around slowly, finding my Lit teacher standing there with a coffee mug in his hand and a mild smile on his face.
Seriously. I wanted to kick that smile off his face sometimes. Nobody was that happy all the time.
“Yeah?” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat.
“Are you headed to the library?” he asked.
I shifted my backpack straps on my shoulders. No better time for honesty than now, eh? “Um… no?”
Mr. Kingston took a sip of his coffee. “Aren’t you and Drew supposed to have a session this afternoon?”
“Well…” I ducked my head, letting my hair obscure his view of my face. “We decided it wasn’t gonna work.”
“Ah, yes. I thought I remembered the librarian saying something about you two arguing yesterday.” He leaned against the wall casually. “What do you think went wrong?”
All of Drew’s words rushed back to me, and a flare of anger flashed inside of me. “He’s a total douche bag, Mr. Kingston! You can’t really expect me to spend every afternoon with Drew Baxter.” A girl passing us scowled at me, so I returned the favor. “Keep walking! You’re not a part of this conversation.”
She scuffled off, and my teacher shook his head at me. “Has it occurred to you, Posey, that if you just treat people nicely, you may wind up making some unexpected friends?”
I glowered at the floor. “I don’t want unexpected friends.”
“Sure you do.”
“Uh… no, really. I don’t. I don’t need friends.”
He sighed. “Everyone needs friends, Posey. Didn’t you have friends back in the city?”
I thought about the group of kids I’d hung out with back in the city. Sure, they were the druggies and sluts at my old high school, and my foster mother hated them, but I’d loved them. Nowhere better to find acceptance than from the losers everyone else rejected. Except it wasn’t possible at TTHS. Everyone had known everyone here since preschool, and new kids were viewed as outsiders. Especially new girls wh
o didn’t wear designer clothes, wear their hair highlighted and curled to perfection, cheerlead, or play a sport. In a school this small, if you weren’t in athletics, there simply wasn’t a place for you.
Now take all of that awkwardness and sprinkle it with the stigma of being a foster kid… and you have me. Posey-what’s-her-name, the one the Coulters picked off the “jacked up kids website.” Oh, let’s see, I’ll take a thin crust teenage girl, with extra attitude, a history of defiant behavior, scars from cigarette burns, and a dash of social ineptness. Oh, and maybe some sexual and physical abuse dipping sauce on the side.
Yeah. I’d been doomed in this place from the get-go.
“No,” I lied.
Mr. Kingston thought for a beat. “You know, I remember my time in high school when I struggled to make friends.”
“Didn’t you go here?” I asked, kicking at a dirt spot on the linoleum.
“Yup.” He wrapped his hands around the mug and nodded. “I was pretty geeky. Not very athletic. My parents tried to get me to participate in basketball, but I couldn’t do anything without falling over my own feet.”
“You must not have fit in very well around here,” I muttered.
“Nope. But I made some friends eventually. I found a kinship with some other kids who loved reading. Some of them were jocks, some weren’t. But we all loved reading Tolkien’s books and spent hours discussing The Lord of the Rings movies. It was the very thing I needed to bridge a gap between myself and the other kids.” He glanced at me through the corner of his eye. “That’s what you need.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I need to be a big Lord of the Rings fan? Lame.”
“No.” He chuckled. “But don’t knock those movies. They were amazing.” When I rolled my eyes, he went on. “You need to find a common bond with someone.”
