by Barnes, Vivi
Now at least I don’t have to go through the entire day being called Olive.
I can feel Sam’s eyes on me, so I quickly log out of the admin screen without looking at her.
“Okay, class.” Ms. Walsh claps her hands together. “Practice day! We’ll be splitting into pairs again. For those of you who are not competing this weekend, please let those who are have the first go. Then you can take your turn as part of Group Two.” She hands a girl in front a stack of papers. “Alyssa will hand out the assignment to the Group One participants for the first task. Remember, it’s not only about speed but accuracy, so focus. Those who are competing, this is very similar to what they’ll be giving you this weekend.” Ms. Walsh directs her gaze to me. “Olivia, you can pair up with Sam here.” She smiles.
I breathe out, relieved, ignoring Tyson’s exaggerated sigh of disappointment. I glance at Sam as she takes her paper. “Are you competing?”
“Hell no,” she says, snorting as if I suggested something offensive.
I stand up to move behind her at Ms. Walsh’s instruction to the class. We’re supposed to learn from each other. I glance at Sam’s paper—it’s an easy one. I could do it in my sleep.
After Ms. Walsh says “Go,” I watch as Sam draws a trapezoid using OpenGL code. I had assumed she wasn’t very good, but it’s just the opposite. She’s really fast, fingers tapping the keys perfectly, with no errors. She’s concentrating hard, but it seems pretty easy for her. I’m fascinated at her speed, and kind of shocked, considering her reaction to my question about whether or not she’s competing. She raises her hand before anyone else is finished.
Ms. Walsh checks Sam’s trapezoid then claps her hands together. “We have a winner! Congratulations, Sam.” She hands her a small package of hard candy. When Ms. Walsh turns away, Sam flings the candy toward me, her eyebrows raised as if to say, I wasted my time for this?
The rest of the class finishes their trapezoid assignment, then we switch. Another student hands out the Group Two assignment, and I almost laugh out loud when I see it. Not that I would tell Sam, but I’ve done this one before.
Ms. Walsh tells us to start, and immediately I start entering an algorithm to determine possible outcomes of a tic-tac-toe game. A waste of time, since everyone knows the game can be played a million times without a winner, a fact I learned the hard way a long time ago, thanks to my horrible older foster brother, Frank. He told me I had to play him until I won. It didn’t take long before I realized there wouldn’t be a winner. He wouldn’t stop playing, though, and would threaten me if I tried to quit. It was my foster sister Dani who rescued me from going into another hour playing with that jerk. He just laughed and said he’d have a different game for me the next day.
The next game he tried to play…
Sam taps me on the shoulder, making me jump. Shoot, I’ve stopped typing. I shake off the memory I’ve tried so hard to block and refocus my attention on the assignment. Just another minute…
“Done!” a boy in the row behind me calls out. It’s the same one who snorted when I called Tyson a jerk, only now his look is smug. He’s the cliché of a smart guy, from his geeky square, black-rimmed glasses to the buttoned-up Ralph Lauren Polo. His eyes are on Sam, who’s tsking with hands on her hips. She’s smiling, though, so I’m guessing they’re friends.
“Yes, of course. Congratulations, Z,” Ms. Walsh says. Z? She hands him a bag of candy, which he immediately opens. He pops a piece into his mouth and raises an eyebrow at me. I turn to the front, my face burning, and quickly type the rest of the data to complete the assignment. Everyone else is still working.
Sam sits back in her chair as we wait for the others to finish. “You did great,” she says in a quiet voice. “Programming is easy for you, huh?”
“I guess. It was my favorite class at my last school. I thought I was pretty good, but now I’m not so sure.”
Sam glances back at Z and smiles. “Oh, yeah, he’s fast. Don’t feel bad, though. He beats everyone.”
“Is he competing this weekend?” I ask hopefully. Something tells me this guy thinks highly of himself and could be taken down a notch or two. Maybe it’s the name—Z. Who names their kid Z?
I start to ask how I can sign up when she snorts. “Z? No way. Talk about a waste of time.”
So much for that idea.
…
Z
Sam is chatting up the new girl. I watch her smile and nod toward me as she whispers. I can’t hear her, but I know that look. I try narrowing my eyes and shaking my head to get her to lay off, but she ignores me. Ever since Sam started working with me, she seems to think it’s fun to try to set me up with any girl who breathes. She’s probably bored, since we haven’t worked on bringing someone to Monroe Street in a while. Still, I can’t think of anything that irritates me more, and she knows it.
The new girl turns her head slightly to catch me in her peripheral vision. I stare at her openly, even rudely, taking in the slender neck, long dark-brown hair tied with a simple band, smooth cheeks turning pink under my scrutiny. I chuckle as she swivels around in her seat to face the front. Pretty, for sure. But same as every other girl, so easily intimidated.
With the exception of Sam, who shakes her head at me. Asshole, she mouths. I pop another piece of candy in my mouth and grin at her, rewarded when she turns around in a huff. It’s not long before a message pops up on my computer.
What is your problem?
I type, What problem?
Stop being rude.
Stop being… I stare at the chat box for a moment, wondering what I should put. So many words go through my mind. So I opt for the one that sums them all up: yourself. I almost laugh at the ridiculous conversation. Sometimes it’s refreshing to just act like a kid.
She ends the chat as the bell rings. Walsh calls out, “Remember everyone, the competition is on Saturday at nine o’clock. Come support your school, even if you’re not participating.”
Tyson is the first to his feet as he faces the new girl. “You did good, Brainy,” he says, reaching out to rub her shoulders. Of course he’ll hit on her. Dumbass Tyson hits on anything that moves. I can’t hear her response but notice that she ducks away from him to follow Sam out the door. I grab my backpack and follow, close enough to hear their conversation but not join them.
“So where are you headed?” Sam asks.
“English Lit,” the girl responds.
“Ah, well, History for me. Let me see.” Sam grabs a piece of paper from her and peruses it. “Cool, we have the same lunch period. Do you bring from home or do your parents give you cash?”
She hesitates, then says, “Well, um, Derrick gave me money.”
Sam glances over her shoulder at me for just a second, and in her eyes I can almost see the wheels turning. Is she kidding? I scowl but she’s already turned back to the girl, saying, “Great! I have to go through the line, too. How about joining me so you don’t get stuck with someone like Tyson? Although, thank God, he’s not in our lunch period. So what do you say?”
I move past them, not waiting to hear the girl’s response. I don’t need to. It’s her first day, she has no friends—of course she’ll want to eat with Sam. And Sam will try to dredge up information on her, coming back with nothing. Same old, same old. Overeager Sam has failed to find anyone that actually fits the criteria, but it doesn’t stop her. Even though we’re partners and supposed to be looking out for each other, trying to tell her what to do doesn’t work, so sometimes I have no choice but to sit back and watch her fail.
Sam catches up to me at my locker, now alone. “Hey, what do you think? About Olivia,” she says.
I grab my English Lit folder, feigning interest in the pages inside. “Who?”
She slides between my locker and me so I’m forced to face her. “The new girl. You know.”
“Not impressed.”
“What do you mean? She’s obviously good. If she hadn’t stopped typing for a second, she would’ve kicked your ass.”
Sam smirks. “She’s probably even better than you.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“You just need to get over your ego, that’s all.”
I wrap my arm around her waist, enjoying the wide-eyed shock in her eyes, and flip her around so she’s out of my way. Then I turn back to the locker.
Sam leans against the open metal door. “Come on. She obviously doesn’t play by the rules. Did you see her hack into the admin site?”
That sparks my interest. “Why’d she do that?”
Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. She wasn’t in long, and I didn’t get a good look. I didn’t see how she got in, either.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “You know, I think she’s got some weird family situation going on. Maybe I can peek into that locket of hers to see who she’s hiding.”
“What gives you that idea?” Although I should know—Sam is nosy as hell.
“She called the person she lives with by his first name. It’s a long shot, I know, but I’m going to do some research next period. Want to come?”
“No, you can handle it.” Sam’s fourth period is Student Assistant, which she loves because she can get information not accessible by kids. Not usually accessible by student assistants, either, but then no one has to know that Sam has an A-plus in snooping.
“You never want to have any fun,” she says, pouting. I ignore her. Sam likes playing the drama queen just to get under my skin. I wouldn’t tell her, but now I’m curious. If this chick is playing around in the school’s admin site, there might be more to her than the sweet, shy, boring girl she appears.
Bill’s words haunt me. The next one better shine.
We’ll see.
Chapter Three
Oliver: If you’re good, good things will happen to you.
The Artful Dodger: [sarcastic] Where’d you learn that, the workhouse?
—a film adaptation of Oliver Twist
Liv
“So you’re a foster, huh?” Sam asks during lunch.
I almost choke on my pizza. “Um, yeah, how’d you know?”
She laughs. “I know everything. Really. Doesn’t take me too long to find out what’s going on at this school. So, how do you like your foster parents?”
I think for a moment. Do I like them? Do I even care? “Denise isn’t really the social type. Derrick is okay, I guess.” Annoying, but okay.
“Tell me about some of your homes.”
I take a sip of my Coke to stall, not sure that I like Sam after all. “Not much to tell. They’ve mostly been in smaller towns than this. The last home was pretty good, but they moved to Hawaii.”
She raises her eyebrows as if to say, And?
“Um, before that, they had lots of kids. I wasn’t really part of the family. It’s been like that mostly, some better than others.” I am not getting into details with her.
She nods. “Yeah, that sucks. I don’t have parents either.”
That surprises me. “You’re a foster? Or adopted?”
“Neither.” She laughs at my confusion. “I live in a group home. You know, abandoned kids, orphaned kids, kids in trouble. It’s not bad. Nancy lets us pretty much do what we want.”
“Oh. Sounds…nice.”
“It’s great. You should come check it out if things get unbearable around your place. Trust me, it’s not like other homes, and you don’t have to worry about a bunch of stupid rules. We have a lot of freedom.”
Yeah, I know of homes like that. I stayed in one years ago, and mostly what I remember is that there were bullies, and I seemed to be a magnet for them. Bullies scare the hell out of me. What I need is to try to stay in one place until I turn eighteen. And money. Somehow I don’t see Denise as the type to want to shuttle me everywhere or pay for my expenses when I’m out of the system.
“Actually, I need a job. Do you know any place that’s hiring?”
“Really?” she asks, her mouth full. She swallows and looks at me steadily. “What kind of job do you want?”
“I don’t know, something that pays decent money. Maybe waiting tables?”
She presses her lips together, studying me. “Where do you live?”
“Not far. On Green Valley Drive.”
“There’s a restaurant over there called Slice of Happy. They may be hiring. Oh, hey, Z, it’s about time. You have to meet our new friend,” Sam says as the strange guy from this morning sits next to her. He was in my second period English Lit class, too, though he didn’t pay me any more attention than he did in Computer Science. At closer view, he’s really not bad-looking. The black-rimmed glasses seem more trendy than nerdy. His lips are full, the corners slightly lifted in a wide pout, almost a smirk. His wheat-blond hair is plastered back, making me think his hair is longer in front. He kicks back in the chair, considering me for no more than a couple seconds before his attention shifts to Sam.
“Seriously, Sam?”
Um, rude much?
“This is Z,” Sam says to me. “He’s not as big of an ass as he seems. Z, this is… Can I call you Liv?”
I nod as Z’s eyes rake over me. Suddenly I’m very aware of my hair pulling away from its ponytail, my too-tight shirt and expensive but worn shoes. My face heats up under his scrutiny and I cross my arms over my chest.
Sam smiles at me. “You were awesome in class today. I know you’re easily going to be one of the best in the class.” I feel a warm glow inside at the compliment, which is extinguished when I catch Z rolling his eyes. I glare at him but he just smirks back.
Sam continues. “She was just telling me about her foster home.”
Shut up, Sam. I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it’s my business, not hers. It apparently interests Z, though. He stares at her for a moment, then turns an unsettlingly softer gaze on me.
“Foster home? That’s cool.” His voice changes to a smooth, almost melodic tone.
“You think?” I ask icily, pretty sure he’s making fun of me.
“Yeah. Sam and I are also…unattached.”
My mouth opens and closes stupidly, but I can’t find anything to say. So two of the first people I meet are orphans like me. What the hell?
“She’s looking for a job. Needs to make money,” Sam tells him.
He looks at her and something seems to cross between them. The corners of his mouth curve up slightly as his eyes take me in again. Good Lord, you’d think I’m the first person to ask about a job. Maybe no one else works around here. I mentally scan through commonly used phrases, trying to find something useful to say.
The hiss-pop as he opens his can of soda makes me jump. He takes a sip. “So what kind of job are you looking for?”
“Sam referred me to Slice of Happy. I’m going to give that a shot.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the puckered expression on his face clearly says that he’d rather work in hell.
“Do you have a job?” I ask Sam.
“Sure. With computers.”
“Really? Doing what?”
“Programming, for the most part.”
Her eyes slide toward Z, but he’s still watching me. I shift in my seat and try to focus only on Sam, because seriously—a job in computer programming for a kid in high school? I’d feel like I died and went to heaven.
“Does the company you work for need any more help?”
She grins. “Maybe. I’ll let you know. They’d have to test you first to see if you’re a good fit.”
“Oh, okay.” A job like that would be so much better than waiting tables, and I’m confident enough in my abilities to know I can pass whatever tests are required.
Z’s eyes are still on me, so I turn to look at him directly. “So is Z your real name?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
His Cheshire Cat smile unnerves me. “Sure.”
I’m mystified and more than a little put off by his attitude, which doesn’t seem to fit his boy-next-door appearance. Makes me think of what they say about a wolf in sheep’s clo
thing. Worse, he seems to be enjoying my discomfort.
“I just remembered, I need to go to the office for something.” I stand up and offer what I hope is a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Z’s lips twitch. What is wrong with the guys in this school?
I back away and bump into a chair, skidding it sideways into a girl at the next table. “Hey, watch it!” She glares at me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, scurrying away as fast as I can. I find a deserted hallway and stop to lean against the lockers. Damn Sam and all her questions, taking me off guard. As much as I like her, I hate that she felt she could snoop around to find out my business, much less tell that Z guy.
The day finally ends without further glimpse of either Z or Sam. I get off the school bus quickly, almost running in an effort to avoid Tyson. I have a feeling he’s going to try to find out where I live, and I don’t exactly want him coming over to play.
The cool darkness of the house envelops me as I walk through the front door. Derrick had mentioned they wouldn’t be home until after five. I walk through the house, flipping on every light I can find and opening some of the blinds. Being in the dark reminds me of every horror movie trailer I’ve ever seen. I toss my backpack on a dining room chair and sit at the PC in the corner. It looks like it’s a few years old. Great. There’s got to be a way I can get my own damn laptop back.
A search for Slice of Happy Pizza shows the location only a couple of blocks from the house. The manager answers the phone when I call and tells me to stop by at four thirty to fill out paperwork and have an interview. That gives me almost an hour for homework.
Opening my folder, I take out the trig assignment and type in the address. At least they give homework online. I’m about halfway through it when the sound of a door opening makes me jump.
