by Amy Sparling
“I’m just—” I begin. Another tear falls down her cheek as she glares at me, her chest heaving with each breath. “I’m just making sure you’re okay.”
“That’s none of your business,” she snaps.
I swallow and rub my forehead. “I’m sorry, Ella.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” she says with a sigh. “Just go away. We’re not friends.”
Chapter 7
I pull the starchy white hotel sheets up to my chin and roll over, facing the window. The movement was supposed to alert my parents to the fact that I am awake and can hear everything they’re saying, but they carry on, oblivious to my existence. Three nights ago when we checked into this one bedroom, two bed hotel room, I’d been creeped out and a little worried about sleeping just two feet away from my parents. I mean, they would know better than to do any adult activities with me around but it was still weird.
Of course, hearing them argue about money was the last fear on my mind yet that’s all they’ve done all weekend. Argue about money and take turns freaking out. Sometimes they freak out at the same time.
I can’t blame Mom for being pissed at Dad right now. He’s the one who let the house insurance lapse three months ago. Apparently things have been tighter than I realized, and my parents’ salaries are barely getting the pills paid. Dad blames Mom’s new Lexus and the rising cost of healthcare and Mom blames Dad’s tendency to order restaurant take out for every meal when she’s at work.
“We have to be out of here by noon,” Dad says, sounding resigned. “If we stay another night, we’ll max out the credit card and we can’t let that happen.”
“I understand Ben, but where else are we going to go? Our parents both live too far away to commute to work.”
“How’s the loan idea going?” Dad asks.
Mom’s silent for a long time and I imagine her shaking her head, or maybe holding back tears. When she speaks, I can’t tell what emotion is on her face. “My parents think we can figure this out ourselves. You know how they are.”
It sounds like they’re hugging, and even over all of the arguing, I’m glad they still love each other. I sit up and pull off the blankets, turning to face my parents.
“We just need a game plan,” I say, somehow thinking that if I keep talking, the answer to our problems will fall out of my mouth. “I can stay with April and Dad, can’t you stay at the station like you do on overnight shifts? Mom, could you stay with Aunt Donna and just drive further to work?” Aunt Donna lives in a halfway house so it’s not like we could all stay, but I figure one person could stay temporarily.
Mom shakes her head. “We’re not splitting up. And this is just temporary, Ella. You don’t need to worry. We’ll get paid soon and we should have a tax refund in a couple weeks. We’ll rent an apartment or something.”
Dad nods while he makes coffee in the hotel’s tiny coffee pot. “This is just a little setback, Punk. You don’t need to worry.”
“How long will it take to build our house back?” I ask.
My parents exchange a look. “We won’t be building it back. We’re putting the land for sale.”
“I grew up in that house,” I say, frowning as my chest tightens.
Mom nods. “But it’s not the same house anymore. These things happen. We’ll bounce back.”
I nod, and the lump in my throat tells me that she’s wrong.
We spend the weekend at our old house, packing up as many things as we can find that are still intact. I find some clothes that are still wearable after being washed, a few Knick knacks and one bottle of nail polish.
Ethan’s truck is in his driveway both days, but he never come outside. I still don’t know what he was thinking when he tried to hug me. One thing I do know for sure: Ethan is not the same scrawny kid from my childhood. He’s filled out in every possible way and his hug felt like I was being wrapped in solid muscles. That’s why I had to push him away. He’s not my friend anymore. He’s Kennedy’s boyfriend.
*
Although my parents take off work on Monday, they make me go to school. April meets me next to the massive shark statue that guards the entrance near the student parking lot. My best friend is tall and thin which makes a sharp contrast to my short, kind of stocky frame. She gives me a quick hug, making sure not to crash into me with her coffee.
“Did you bring me one by chance?” I ask, giving her a big, innocent grin.
She holds out the paper coffee cup and my name is scribbled on the side. “I already drank mine,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the cup. “You are the best, best friend ever.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I know.”
We still have a few minutes until the first period bell rings and April wants to know everything that happened this weekend. I wasn’t able to tell her all the details since I was never away from my parents for long enough to talk privately. It’s been a rough forty-eight hours and only part of that has to do with losing my house.
“It’s weird,” I explain as we walk toward first period. “Like I was watching TV and I thought that my feet were cold, so I wanted socks. And then I realized all my socks are gone. Or like, I had a craving for a honey bun and then I realized I can’t go into the kitchen anymore and get one.”
April frowns. “That is so sucky. Your whole life is like, gone.” She makes a poof gesture with her hands.
“I know. Mom cried for ten minutes when she found the hard drive with our family photos on it. It still works so she’s like freaking out about it.”
I’m trying really hard to maintain the conversation, but it’s nearly impossible as we walk down the hallway. Everyone is staring at me. And I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of those situations where you think you’re being watched but you’re really not.
“Hey, April?” I say quietly.
She nods as if reading my mind. “People are staring.”
My cheeks redden. “Why?” I groan.
“Well the rumors are you’re the only one who lost their house. Some freshman kid lost their barn and this other guy’s grandfather got hurt really bad. But you’re the big story. Your dad was on the news and everything.”
I let out a slow breath, watching the red specks in the tile flooring as we walk. My dad is pretty well known around here because when we were younger, he’d always volunteer for career day and tell stories about gory disgusting EMT patients he’s had over the years. In a small town like Hockley, everyone knows my dad.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” I mutter as I lean against the lockers outside of my first period class.
April puts an arm around my shoulders. “My mom told me that you’re all welcome to come crash in our living groom if you need.”
April has six siblings and a three bedroom house. I’ve only spent the night over there once. The rest of the time she comes to my house so we can have privacy and our own bedroom. I smile. “Thanks, but my parents are going to figure out something.”
“Are you the girl who lost her house?” some freshman-looking kid asks me while two of his friends stand around waiting for the answer.
“That’s me,” I say. “Tell me if you find it.”
*
All four of my morning teachers go out of their way to talk to me about what happened. It’s not like I lost my entire family in a murder-suicide but you’d think it was that dramatic by the way they act. I get asked a lot of questions and many people want to know if my dad’s okay. I’ve spent all seventeen years of my life blending into the crowd so suddenly being the center of attention is like Mother Nature’s idea of torture.
In lunch, I’m grateful to see that my lunch account still has twenty bucks on it. I can no longer pack a lunch from whatever’s in the pantry and the last thing I want to do is ask my parents for money. April and I get cheesy fries and a soda and settle into our spot at a round table near the windows that face the courtyard.
Because my luck is astronomically awful lately, I look
up from the table at the exact moment that Ethan walks by, his girlfriend right next to him.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a little wave.
What the hell?
I just stare at him. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m exhausted from being forced to talk to entirely too many people today, maybe because I’m running on crappy hotel room sleep and I haven’t been able to take a single breath in the last three days without that tornado on my mind. Whatever the reason, I just stare.
His steps falter and those gorgeous dark eyebrows pull together. “You okay?”
“She’s fine,” April says, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Yep,” I say when Ethan won’t stop looking at me. “I’m peachy.”
I don’t have to look at Kennedy to know she’s glaring at me. The fact that she doesn’t want her boyfriend talking to me, the girl he thinks is a gross stalker, is enough to make me smile. Why waste her time and precious brain cells being threatened by me? I am no one.
Kennedy takes a step back and opens her arms wide. “Attention everyone!” she calls out, putting her cheerleading lungs to good use. “Hello! I need everyone’s attention, please!”
I turn back to my cheesy fries but it’s obvious this is about me.
“What are you doing?” Ethan asks her.
Kennedy says, “As we all know, one of our students lost their house in the tornado. She’s clearly wearing the same outfit she wore on Friday, the poor thing.”
From across the cafeteria, I see Mr. Brown’s face redden and he begins walking toward us. But Kennedy has everyone’s eyes on her now. “Please, everyone. Let’s take up a food donation for Ella, okay? I’m sure her family could use all the help they can get. The poor girl looks like she hasn’t even showered in days. Maybe we could take turns buying her lunch every day, hmm?”
My entire body seems to vibrate with anger. People laugh and others go back to eating. Someone shouts something I can’t quite make out, but Kennedy has proven her point. If I talk to her boyfriend, she can easily embarrass me in front of the entire school.
Ethan hisses something to her and she rolls her eyes.
I slap my hands on the table and stand up, nearly knocking over my chair.
The entire cafeteria goes quiet once more and I make eye contact with the teacher who is still walking over here. I figure I have about ten seconds until he gets to this side of the room, so I better make it quick.
“Now that Kennedy has your attention, I’d like to organize another fundraiser as well.” My heart pounds and I’m nervous as hell, but the desire to make her feel as small as she’s trying to make me feel is too strong. I won’t let her win.
I point to her. “I’ll be collecting donations to help Kennedy Price get the one thing she doesn’t have. A personality. I hear they sell them in Japan, but they’re pricey, especially since the doctors will be working on someone as vapid as our head cheerleader.” My face goes numb from nerves but I force myself to keep talking. “Donations of any amount are appreciated.”
“That’s enough, girls!” Mr. Brown growls, pointing a chubby finger at me. Kennedy grabs her boyfriend by the arm and tugs him away but Ethan meets my eyes for just a second.
He grins.
Chapter 8
Kennedy tugs my arm, her long nails digging into my skin when I try resisting. “What the hell was that?” I ask as we head back toward our table. I want to turn around and apologize to Ella, but who knows what kind of wrath Kennedy would inflict upon both of us if I did. Luckily most people have turned back to their food, proving that the attention span of teenagers is never that long.
Mr. Brown walks up to our lunch table the second we sit down. He clears his throat.
“Ms. Price, may I have a word with you?”
Kennedy turns around in her chair and peers up at him with her innocent little angel look. I’ve seen her use it on her dad to get him to let us stay out past curfew. “What can I help you with, Mr. Brown?”
I’m not even joking. She bats her eyelashes at him.
Lines deepen across the teacher’s forehead and I can practically hear him thinking that he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this. “You can help me by keeping to yourself during lunch. You know that stunt was inappropriate.”
She gasps, putting a hand to her chest. “Sir, I was only trying to help! I mean, the administration should be embarrassed that they didn’t do something first. That poor girl lost her house. You should be talking to Ella since what she said was way worse than my offer to help her.”
He frowns. “Let’s just keep any announcements you may have to yourself, okay?”
She gives him a coy smile. “Sure thing.”
He leaves quickly, probably happy to have fulfilled his teacher duties for the day. I watch him walk away, curious to see if he’ll go chastise Ella as well.
“What are you looking at?” Kennedy says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. A cloud of perfume follows her hand. “I’m talking about prom here, Ethan.”
I look at her, and then at the rest of my crew, and it dawns on me for the first time that Kennedy has never invited one of her girlfriends to sit with us. From the day we started dating, she’d moved to my lunch table with the guys, quickly making friends with all of them.
Where did she sit before we started dating? And why are her only friends other cheerleaders who never seem to hang around with us unless we’re at a pep rally?
Kennedy taps the notebook in front of her. I’d bought her lunch—a salad and a bag of Cheetos—but she hasn’t even touched it yet. Prom planning is more important, I guess.
“Okay so, I’m still deciding between the pink dress and the white one. Your tux just needs to be black and it’ll match with whatever tie I get you.”
“Why are you so intent on being a bitch to Ella?” I ask. “You didn’t even know who she was until Friday.”
Kennedy closes her prom planning notebook and slaps it on the table so hard it makes all the guys look up.
“Would someone please tell me why my boyfriend cares so much about some stupid homeless girl who is not his girlfriend?”
Keith takes a bite of his burger and shrugs. “Because they used to be best friends?”
Ah shit.
Her gaze whirls on me and I get the sudden urge to hold up one of those bullet proof shields that swat teams use. “Do you have something to tell me?”
I try act casual and reach for a chicken nugget. “We used to be friends when we were kids. I haven’t talked to her in years.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Really? Years? Because you two seemed to be having a great conversation when I saw you in the hallway on Friday.”
“It’s nothing, Kennedy. Just let it go.”
She lets out a huff of air and then reaches for her backpack on the floor. “I don’t even want to plan prom right now,” she says, like it’s some kind of epic sacrifice. She shoves the notebook back in her bag.
I know exactly how I want to end this conversation.
I want to break up.
Only I don’t say it, not here in front of everyone. I’ve been a bystander to one of Kennedy’s public scenes once today. There’s no need for an encore.
“Hey am I still coming over to study for the math test today?” I ask her.
She pretends to consider it for a moment and then shrugs. “If you want.”
“Okay, great.”
With my resolve set, I’ll only need to survive the rest of the day. Then I’ll go straight to Kennedy’s house after school and break up with her. I’ll do it on her front doorstep so there’s no awkward walking back through her house when it’s over. The more I think about the plan, the more confident I am that this is the right decision to make. I don’t know what I was thinking dating her.
Okay, maybe I do. I was thinking: hot, popular, likes me.
This is just high school and I know it won’t matter in the future, but it matters to me now. I don’t want to be known as the guy who dates s
omeone as possessive and rude as Kennedy Price, hot cheerleader or not. She can’t get away with stomping all over everyone, including her boyfriend. She’d reeled me in with her flirty eyelashes and heavy-handed compliments on my athletic skill, saying she’d watched me all during football season but didn’t have the courage to approach me. Right. She lured me in and I’d bought it all, like a fish who’s too stupid to see the sharp hook underneath the bait.
The next time I date someone, I’ll make sure she’s more than just a pretty face. She’ll have to be worth it.
*
When the bell rings before last period, I duck out of physics and turn left, purposely taking the long way to the athletics hallway so I can avoid Kennedy. Usually we walk together to last period since I have athletics and she has cheer, but I’m so pumped about breaking up with her that I’m afraid I’ll give it away before we meet at her house. Breaking up with her at school would be a terrible idea, so I’m resorting to sneaking around like a criminal. At least this is the last day I have to worry about her.
When I reach E hallway, it’s nearly empty. That makes Ella’s hot pink backpack stand out even brighter than usual. When I’d hugged her at my house, she told me go away and maybe I’m just an idiot but I have to talk to her again.
“Ella,” I say, jogging to catch up with her. Her shoulders straighten. “Hey, about today during lunch,” I continue, ignoring the cold shoulder she throws my way. “I’m sorry about Kennedy. That was uncalled for.”
“Doesn’t bother me,” she says, staring at the floor as she walks. Junior high feels like decades ago, but now that I’m back to walking next to her like I always used to, I get the urge to grab onto the handle at the top of her backpack and push her around just like the old days. She used to giggle and scream and shove me away, but no matter how much she pretended to hate it, she’d always wait for me after class so we could walk together.
“Well I’m glad it doesn’t bother you, but it bothers me,” I say, struggling to think of something else to say. I just want to talk to her, as stupid as it is. “Look, Kennedy and me are—” I stumble over my words. Should I admit we’re done before I’ve told Kennedy?
