by Fiona Keane
“Maybe.”
“Sophia,” she mumbled, placing her hand on my shoulder. “I hope today is better. Rappelez-vous, ma chère.”
I nodded and methodically climbed out from her car, not the least bit worried about entering the building soaking wet, and removed my bike from the trunk. Nobody was outside like yesterday. My chest tightened, but I thought of Jules counting with me last night and it helped. I scampered through the puddles in my flip-flops and saturated jeans, and entered the building. Olivia was already waiting for me at the door for our first period French class. Her long blonde hair was curled in a ponytail that hung to the side. Her face lifted when she saw my arrival.
“Hi, Sophia.” She was bubbly. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me, too,” I lied.
She placed her hand on my wrist as I clung to the strap of my bag. “You know…if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, forcing a smile.
I wanted to like Olivia, and I think deep down I really did, but I applied several coats to the walls of my social life, reinforcing my angst. Her mouth spread into a gentle smile, one so genuine that I was filled with remorse for being unable to automatically attach to her like that small part of me craved.
“Thanks for meeting me again,” I blurted. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s really kind.”
“What are friends for? We were all new somewhere once, right? Come on. We don’t want to be late or Madame Louise will send us to the guillotine.”
Olivia’s innocent giggle filled the hallway and, surprisingly, I smiled. It felt really nice. So I stopped.
***
Luke reached across the table to steal some fries from Olivia’s cup. She playfully swatted at him and Michelle rested her head on his shoulder. I observed from my safe spot next to Olivia.
“We’re going to the beach this weekend, Sophia.” Luke turned his attention to me. “You should come.”
“Maybe,” I lied. Again. I noticed Olivia bite her lip as she watched my response with a furrowed brow.
“Is everything okay?” she whispered to me as Michelle and Luke carried on discussing their weekend plans, even though it was Tuesday.
I shrugged, feeling guilty about lying to Olivia. She seemed genuinely concerned. Or maybe she, too, was just curious about the new girl.
“We’ll probably head over with Jamie,” Luke discussed. “Maybe spend the night or something.”
“Beach campfire,” Michelle cooed. “I can’t wait.”
“Come,” Olivia mouthed, before sipping from her acrylic water bottle.
I went to the beach a lot back home, but it was a grayer, colder experience than it would be here. Back home, I wore rain boots and sweatshirts to the beach. My shoulders sank as I played with the barcode sticker on my apple, while listening to their continued conversation. Thinking about the weekend when it was only Tuesday filled me with anxiety. I needed to survive on an hourly basis, not planning four days ahead. It was easier for me to observe than it was to participate, so that’s what I did for the rest of lunch.
***
Part of me felt guilty when I was slightly excited for seventh period. Not only did its conclusion mean I could leave, but…
“Hey, new girl,” the same boy from yesterday called out to me as I took my seat—as far away from the front as possible. He dropped his backpack on the desk behind me, but sat next to me.
“How was your day?” he inquired politely. “Mark, by the way.”
“Hi.” I hid my face, feeling nervous with the impending dialogue. “Fine.”
The remaining students shuffled in and Mark leaned back in his seat while Mrs. Calvin began her lesson. Mark leaned his head over the narrow path between our desks, inching close to my bubble of personal security.
“What are you doing after school?” I looked at him, embarrassed for both of us, and turned to face the front of the room. I was silently willing him to lean back into his own space and stop looking at me.
“Mark,” a voice whispered from behind me. “Shut it.”
I quickly glanced and noticed the girl sticking her tongue out at Mark and the empty seat next to her. My throat tightened. Mrs. Calvin continued discussing her themes of Beowulf, as she had so thoroughly done yesterday, and my classmates frantically typed notes on their tablets and laptops.
“Do you want to get some pizza or something?” Mark pressed, his plea barely a whisper.
Strangely enough, I didn’t feel the normal sense of panic when placed in uninvited social situations. Instead, I tuned out Mark and tried to listen to Mrs. Calvin. The chair next to Mark remained empty throughout class, easing some of my nerves. I don’t know why I cared. I missed Michelle and Olivia on my way out, tactfully avoiding them as I ran to my bike–already prepared with my lock key in hand.
Aunt Jules wasn’t watering her plants when I arrived. I carried my bike onto the porch, locking it against a water pipe that was painted to match the cornflower blue siding.
“Jules,” I called for her, wandering inside.
She wasn’t in the kitchen. Next, I looked in the small living room. The haze of her recently burned incense hung freshly in the air, informing me that she had at least been here. I called her name again to no avail, and finally headed to my bedroom. I kicked off my flip-flops and dropped my bag at the foot of my bed, noticing a small note on my pillow. She’d made my bed again. I picked up the note as I plopped onto the soft covers, deeply exhaling my exhausting second day of school.
Ma chère,
I will be at Simon’s house for the night. I hate to leave you alone. Long story. His cat found a gator in the loo. I left some dinner in the fridge for you. Call if you need anything. I’ll see you after school tomorrow. Remember, ma chère, only twenty-four days left. XO
The fact she was also counting down to my freedom sent my heart into my throat, putting into tangible form just how much longer I needed to pretend. I let her note fall to the floor, taking a few minutes to collect myself and transition from school.
I hadn’t been alone in her house overnight yet and, in all honesty, I was terrified. I was angry that her boyfriend’s cat took precedence over me, nervous of being alone overnight, dreading the emptiness I would wake to after my nightmares.
Those few minutes lasted a few hours and when my eyes finally opened, it was ten. A slight drizzle had danced along my bedroom window and I could hear the muffled hum of traffic in the distance.
It hit me. With a wave of panicked sobs between gasps for air, it hit me. My mom was gone.
I couldn’t catch my breath; the darkness was choking me, swallowing me into its despair and holding me prisoner. I tried to think of anything else, fruitlessly forcing myself to pull out of the images of my mom on our kitchen floor. My body rolled from my bed, collapsing on the floor. My skin grew instantly aware of the vacancy around me; air whipped by, never pausing to embrace me, never stopping to calm me. I was alone.
CHAPTER THREE
DAY THREE
I could barely hear the muffled vibration from my phone. One eye opened, peeking out as I adjusted to the sunlight. My face ached, pressed against the hard tile of my bedroom floor.
The buzzing continued incessantly. I tore my second eye open and, with a groan, pulled myself toward my bag to address the buzz. My alarm was shrieking at me, having been playing for the last two hours. I was beyond late for school. However, my body struggled to lift itself from the protected confines of my floor. With resistance, I climbed up, clinging to my mattress, and stalked toward the bathroom.
“Sophia,” the call stopped me in my tracks. “Sophia! Are you okay? Her bike is still here. Do we just go in? Sophia!”
She was talking to someone. I waited.
“Sophia, are you okay?” It was Mr. Fitzgerald…and Olivia?
I told myself not to panic. I told myself I wasn’t in trouble. My eyes sealed shut, hoping this was just an icky part of a dream, but when I opened them, I
could see the circular light reflected from Olivia’s watch bouncing along the wall. I swallowed, hoping to create an excuse before answering the door.
“Sophia!” Olivia cried out, clutching Mr. Fitzgerald’s shoulder in excited relief.
I opened the porch door and stepped back inside. They hesitantly followed me in, seeming uncomfortably cautious but eager.
“I…” I couldn’t think of a lie. “I’m not feeling well. I should’ve called school. You didn’t need to come all the way out here. I’m really sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
He glanced at Olivia and then at me before speaking.
“Olivia, would you please get Sophia a glass of water?” His dark eyes didn’t leave mine as he directed Olivia and she left for the kitchen. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Sophia, what really happened?”
“I overslept.” The sounds barely escaped my lips.
“Where is your aunt?”
“Her boyfriend’s house. Look, Mr. Fitzgerald, I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“My parents are divorced,” Olivia interrupted my thought, plopping her body onto one of the faded cushions on the porch. “I found out that my mom was cheating on my dad. I…I caught her. So…you’re not alone in having secrets, or things that frighten or bother you. Everyone’s got their story, right?”
Her words tickled the back of my mind, remembering being told that same thing by Jameson.
“I brought Olivia here…” Mr. Fitzgerald noticed the confusion on my face, “…because she was concerned about your safety.”
“I don’t know anything, Sophia.” She raised her hands defensively. “But when you didn’t show up for French, I figured something was up and I got really worried. I went to Mr. Fitz and he hadn’t seen you either, so he excused me to come check on you.”
I refused to tell Olivia anything. Was she prying? Was she genuine? She rose from the cushion and stood next to me, reaching for my hand.
“Life sucks. A lot.” She smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “And no matter what happens, we all need someone. Can I be your someone, Sophia?”
“That’s a lot of pressure,” I mumbled, glancing at Mr. Fitzgerald.
I didn’t want a person, I wanted my mom. I walked back into my bedroom, leaving Olivia and Mr. Fitzgerald on the porch. I felt like throwing up, cowering into a pile beneath my bed, but I didn’t want Olivia to know there was something wrong. I didn’t want to open a window to talk about it. I didn’t want to admit it.
I got dressed, joined them outside, and sat in the back of Mr. Fitzgerald’s Mercedes as he drove Olivia, my bike, and me back to school.
***
We got to school in time for my study hall right before lunch. I sat in the back of the lecture hall, near the top left corner, able to see everyone and everything with no threat around me. I didn’t have any homework, and I didn’t feel like studying, so I just sat there, restless and lonely, succumbing to the empty thoughts simmering in my mind. I dreaded lunch and what came after, but the longer I was held hostage by my brain, the more I started to look forward to my final class.
“Hey, you.” Olivia grabbed me as I walked out of study hall. “Lunch?”
“Okay,” I obliged.
I would need to be cordial with her. She came to my house because she was concerned about me. Olivia linked her arm around mine, gliding through the hall attached to me. Her blonde ponytail bounced as she greeted familiar classmates with friendly laughter.
“Hey,” she whispered as we approached the food carts, “I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”
I glanced up at her, the cart of desserts standing between us, mindlessly following the person ahead of me.
“Seriously,” Olivia pressed. “I feel terrible. It’s just that I got so nervous.”
“You don’t need to be,” I mumbled, slighted that she felt there was something about which to feel nervous after knowing me for three days.
I must have offended Olivia because the friendly sparkle in her blue eyes faded and her glance veered from me.
“Hi.” Luke cut in line in front of Olivia. “Have you guys seen Michelle?”
“Nope,” Olivia sighed, glancing at me before turning away from the food cart.
Luke carried his tray, overflowing with carbs and sweets, ahead of Olivia toward Michelle, who was already seated. I followed them to their lunch table and sat at the end, mindlessly picking at a green bean. Luke’s weight next to me interrupted my daze.
“Did you think any more about the beach?” He put his right arm around me, squeezing me at the shoulders.
“No. Sorry.” I smiled, surprising myself by how good his affectionate contact felt. Olivia reached the table and sat across from me, watching us cautiously.
“Don’t pressure her, Luke,” she politely warned. “We live on the Gulf. There will always be beach days.”
“Right,” he agreed, releasing his hold. Emptiness filled the vacancy left by his squeeze.
I studied Olivia, her gentle smile warming again along her light face as it reached her bright eyes. I think we were okay again; one less thing for me to worry about.
“So,” I mumbled, “isn’t Florida supposed to be sunshine all the time?”
“You must have brought some of that Pacific Northwest rain with you,” Olivia teased, grinning at me while she gnawed at her apple.
“You came all the way from there?” Luke blurted, perhaps in shock that a world existed so far from his safe peninsula along the Gulf of Mexico.
“There is more than the beach,” I quietly teased, a warm blush tickling my cheeks. For a fleeting second, I felt my age. I was filled with a sensation of innocence, humor, and confidence. Somewhere in the deepest, most hidden area of my heart, I knew I craved affection, attention, and friendship, but I couldn’t allow myself what I felt was a risk. I had seen too much, hidden so much; how could I let anyone in?
“He doesn’t think so,” Michelle rolled her eyes as she sat between Luke and me. “Luke has never left Florida. He’s such a hermit.”
“Being a hermit is okay, Luke,” I quietly reassured him.
Olivia smiled warmly, as if she was proud of me for opening up—even if it was only two comments. Luke and Michelle exchanged teasing expressions while Olivia turned the conversation to my schedule.
“I’m bummed we don’t have any classes together,” Luke admitted. “It’d be nice to have a friend outside of these two.”
“Jerk,” Olivia stuck her tongue out at him.
“True, but I also agree. I never see you at all,” Michelle pouted at me, taking a bite of her apple slices. “At least we both have British Lit with Cranky Calvin, just not the same period.”
“That’d be a lot nicer.” I giggled—quickly stopping myself from expressing humor.
Almost instinctively, Olivia’s toes tapped against mine below the table. She was growing on me and I didn’t know how to cope.
“Nicer than what? You don’t like being stuck in her class taking copious notes with…who is in that hour?” Michelle studied me, forgetting I couldn’t name anyone after my third day.
“Um,” I mumbled. “I don’t know. That guy who asked me out on my first day, and that other guy…I don’t really know anyone yet except for you three.”
“Who asked you out?” Luke laughed. “They’ve got some balls.”
Everyone looked at me, eager to learn another secret from the new girl.
I bit into my apple as I regretfully admitted, “Mark.”
Michelle and Olivia groaned in disgust and annoyance while Luke’s chuckle forced water to spray from his mouth.
Michelle wailed, “Oh, my god. He is such a perv.”
“Yeah, but he’s kind of cute. Right?” Olivia prodded, looking at Michelle and me for reassurance.
I shook my head, turning to Luke, who was still laughing at us, finding humor in our exchange.
“Who else? What guy?” Olivia continued, referring to my earlier commen
t.
I knew his name, but saying it out loud tickled my toes with the nervous wings of a million butterflies.
“Uh…Jameson?” I quietly replied.
“Oh, Jamie.” Luke fluttered his eyelashes and blew kisses into the air. “Love of my life. My dear, sweet, Jamie.”
“Yeah,” I hesitated, “I guess that’s the guy.”
Michelle and Olivia were laughing at Luke’s mockery of what I assumed had been the standard perception of Mr. Hazel Eyes and his delightfully uncontrolled hair. Stop that.
“Stop,” Olivia warned Luke with a giggle. “I like Jamie. He’s a nice guy.”
“He’s a flirt,” Michelle snapped at her. “You need your head examined, girlfriend.”
“So do you, Michelle.” Olivia nodded toward Luke as, with his head tilted back, he dumped an entire box of candy into his mouth. The girls erupted into a fit of giggles.
It was a lot of attention—I was split between enjoying lunch and wanting to wrap myself in a blanket and hide.
“Jamie’s going to the beach.” Luke returned the conversation, and my butterflies, to Jameson. I needed to go home.
CHAPTER FOUR
I slinked in through the doorway of seventh period, cautiously studying the students who lingered around the room and those who were already seated, prepared with their tablets and laptops on their small desks. The spot I retained the previous two days was empty, as were the four seats around it. It was the perfect bubble of introverted security, safely reserved in the corner of the room…until Mark tumbled in like a wild boar and dropped his backpack right on the desk behind my usual seat.
I tiptoed along the wall toward the opposite corner, safely reserving myself a new seat that was, thankfully, surrounded by a bubble of emptiness. I took out my notebook and pen, preparing myself mentally for the incessant notes Mrs. Calvin would require we take. Some girls filled the seats around me, providing a buffer between me and the other side of the room.
