My eyes stray to the windows, at all the chattering teens catching up from their morning classes.
It’s all so normal.
There are fewer people outside, for which I’m grateful. I can easily tune out the chatter and eat my sandwich.
The door to the patio opens again and I look up, spotting Finn walking out with Jack.
He doesn’t notice me, focused solely on getting Jack in the grass for a potty break.
After Jack does his business he sits down on the ground with his back against the brick exterior of the building, stretching his legs into the grass. He opens his backpack and yanks out a brown paper bag lunch sack. As he’s zipping his backpack he catches me staring and I look away hastily.
My cheeks sting with embarrassment at getting caught.
“Why were you looking at that weirdo?” A girl from the table beside mine, sitting with three other friends, speaks to me.
“Huh?” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
She nods her head in Finn’s direction. “Finnley Crawford is the strangest guy I’ve ever seen. I’d stay away from him if I were you.”
I look at Finn over my shoulder. He picks off a piece of what I assume is turkey from his sandwich and gives it to Jack, who takes it delicately from his fingers. Finn cracks a small smile and rubs the dog’s head.
“I mean, look at him. I heard he has that dog because of anger issues. Apparently he punched a teacher in middle school because the teacher looked at him funny.” She shudders, the gesture not disturbing a perfect blonde hair on her head. I’m pretty sure it’s hair sprayed so hard that it’ll never move again.
“Have you ever spoken to him?” I counter, cocking my head to the side.
She crinkles her bunny nose. “No,” she scoffs, “why would I?”
I stand up, grabbing my stuff. “Just because someone is different than you, or you don’t understand them, doesn’t mean they’re beneath you.”
Her jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I walk away, and I hear her whispering to her friends behind me. I’ve probably just slapped a giant target across my back, but I don’t care.
Kids didn’t understand my sister. They ignored her and ostracized her. They mocked her and belittled her.
They thought their words didn’t matter.
“Hi, Finn.”
I stop in front of him. His black boots are centimeters away from the tips of my flip-flops. His head is bowed slightly and he lets Jack lick his fingers.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
He scratches Jack’s ears and jerks his eyes toward me and away. “Why?”
“Those girls aren’t very nice and I don’t know anyone. I just moved here.”
I know he knows I’ve just moved, but it feels necessary to remind him.
“Why?” he repeats.
“Because you’re sitting alone and I’m sitting alone, and maybe if we sit together we won’t be so alone then?” I squint against the sun and he tilts his face toward me.
He’s good-looking, but in a quirky way, where his mouth is too large for his face and his nose too pointy but it suits him. In fact, I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t different girls would fawn all over him. He has the broody, tortured, artist or poet vibe down.
“Fine.”
I know it’s all the answer I’m going to get. I sit down beside him, careful to keep a few feet between us when I notice him stiffen.
“Thanks for letting me sit with you.”
He grunts in response.
His body is angled away from mine and toward his dog. His posture is rigid and I should probably just leave, but I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
“You like stars, huh?”
I don’t expect an answer but out of my peripheral I notice him nod.
“I do too.” I pick off a piece of sandwich and hand it to Finn. He promptly gives it to Jack. “There’s a whole other world out there,” I muse.
He rubs his lips together and pushes his glasses up his nose.
“Infinite possibilities.” He speaks the words softly, carefully.
The bell rings, dismissing us to a short free period. I pick up my trash and take Finn’s too, tossing it in the bin. “Can I sit with you tomorrow?”
He’s picking grass off of Jack’s vest and I know he’s heard me, just buying time to decide what he wants to say. “I guess.”
I smile.
Victory.
Chapter Eight
I only manage to finish one calculus equation before the bell rings and I’m sent to my next class, Physics. It’s the one class I’ll have every day. I couldn’t luck out with having an elective every day. No, I’m stuck with Physics. That just seems like pure cruelty on behalf of whoever set up my schedule.
I race down the hall and up the stairs toward the science department. The Physics classroom is as far as humanly possible from the one my free period is in.
I get some strange looks as I race down the halls, but I don’t care.
Just before the bell rings I make it inside the room and scan the lab tables for an empty seat.
All are full until I notice one in the very back corner.
Finn leans against the wall, his head ducked down, with the only empty seat beside him.
“Please, take a seat,” the teacher clips at me, pointing to the stool.
I sigh and walk between the aisles, feeling the eyes of my fellow classmates on me. I pull out the metal stool and it clangs against the floor. I shrug my backpack off and place it on the floor, leaning against the large lab counter, before I sit down.
Finn shifts away, it’s not like he can get much farther, and Jack lies on the floor between us.
“I’m Mr. Lambert,” the teacher says in a curt tone, grabbing a stack of sheets and handing it to the first kid. “Pass these among yourselves and we’ll go over the requirements I have for you in my classroom. For example…” He pauses and his eyes stop on me. “This young lady here, Miss?”
“Uh…” Every eye in the room turns to me and I hear Finn squeak the chair some more. “Page. Violet Page.”
“Miss Page is wearing flip-flops. Flip-flops are not permitted on lab days. I will notify you of this prior to lab days, but if you fail to show up dressed properly with legs and feet covered, you will be given a fail grade.”
Unlike Mr. Rochester there’s no secret laughter in this guy’s eyes. With a thick mustache and out of control hair and eyebrows he definitely looks the part of the mad scientist.
Eventually the papers make it to our table and I grab one, passing it to Finn. He doesn’t take it so I lay it in front of him before grabbing one for myself and leaving the stack on the end of the table since there’s no one left to give them to.
Up front Mr. Lambert reads over the list of rules, regulations, and his own personal quirks and choices for his classroom.
Namely, no chewing gum, no drinking water, and no snacks.
The rest of the class is spent going over his plans for our next class and passing out textbooks and workbooks. The first day of school is always so vastly boring to me. There are so many rules to go over and expectations, that generally not much work is started. So far Mr. Rochester is the only one who’s gotten straight to work, and while nobody else might, I appreciate him for that.
Beside me, Finn spends the period squirming in his chair and tugging on his collar, looking generally uncomfortable.
If I could move to another table I would, not because he’s bothering me, but because I get the distinct sense that my closeness is bothering him.
Mr. Lambert finishes speaking and looks at the large clock above the door. “Ten minutes are left. Talk quietly amongst yourselves.”
The room immediately bursts into robust chatter and Finn covers his ears with his hands, resting his elbows on the black counter in front of us. I bite my lip, knowing the sound of so many voices is bothering him, but I don’t know how to make it better without upsetting him. The
last thing I want to do is invade his space and make him more uncomfortable.
“I said quietly,” Mr. Lambert repeats.
The voices soften, but Finn keeps his ears covered.
Jack stands up, rubbing his body against Finn’s restless legs that bounce against the footrest of the stool.
Finn calms some, but doesn’t remove his hands from his ears.
I shoot my hand in the air and the movement must catch Mr. Lambert’s eyes because he looks up from the book he’s reading and removes his reading glasses. “Yes?” He arches a brow.
“Would it be okay if Finn and I go to the library for the last few minutes?”
His eyes slide from me to my table partner and he shrugs. “You’re dismissed.”
I turn to Finn, but I can’t catch his eye.
“Library,” I mouth. “We can go to the library.”
He nods eagerly, thankfully, and I pick up my backpack and his. Finn grabs Jack’s leash and hauls ass out of the classroom, toward the lower level library. I struggle to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“Finn,” I plead, practically running to keep up. “Slow down. I have little legs compared to you.”
He listens and slows. When I catch up with him he takes his backpack from me and slips it on.
In record time we make it to the library. I visited it briefly when I came to look around, and it’s certainly impressive, with high ceilings that sport a mural of cherubs and look like something you’re more likely to see in a church in Greece than an American high school, dark wood shelves, and chandeliers. There are tables dotted through the whole library along with some leather club chairs, perfect for reading.
I follow Finn to a table and he pulls out a chair. He collapses into it, letting out a heavy breath. Jack rests his head on Finn’s leg, looking on with worried eyes at his charge.
I slide the chair out across from Finn and sit down, placing my backpack on the table between us.
Before my butt touches the seat Finn startles me with a question.
“Why are you nice to me?”
I think it’s the first full sentence he’s ever spoken to me.
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” I scoot my backpack to the other side of the table and clasp my fingers together, laying them on the table.
He wets his lips, looking at the knotted wood table. “No one else is.”
“Their loss, then.”
His eyes meet mine briefly, and the deep blue color of them reminds me of the midnight blue night sky. “You feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t.” I feel the furthest thing from sorry for him.
“They’re afraid of me,” he murmurs, the confession dripping from his tongue with the displeasure of something sour tasting.
“They don’t understand you.”
“And you do?” He counters.
“You’re just like everyone else.”
A humorless laugh bursts from his lips. “I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not.”
Before I can say anything else, he gets up and I watch him and Jack head for the exit.
I don’t follow. I know he doesn’t want me to.
Chapter Nine
The first week of school ends and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. My new school isn’t bad, but somehow I’ve become a social pariah by speaking to Finn and sitting with him at lunch. That fact doesn’t sit well with me.
Not because I want people to like me, but their unnecessary judgment clouds my vision with red.
Finn hasn’t uttered one word to me since the library incident. I’m following his lead and not saying anything, though we do sit outside together at lunch, side by side with a few empty feet between us. Sometimes it’s only the grass separating us. Other times it’s Jack who will sit between us.
I park my bike outside the garage, and enter the code to get inside.
I can’t help noticing Finn’s car is already parked in front of his house.
Inside, I find a note from my mom saying she’s run to the grocery store and will be back in an hour.
I grab a soda from the refrigerator and head up to my room.
Will Ferret rustles in his cage, poking his head up when he sees me.
I grin and set my drink down. “Hey, buddy.” I open his cage and he runs to me to be held. I gather him in my arms and kiss the top of his soft head. I kick my door closed and set him down so he can run around.
He circles between my legs and I giggle.
He follows me as I open my window and slip outside onto the roof. “I’ll be back in a minute, Will. I need a breath of fresh air.”
The little ferret looks hardly appeased by my words, but finds one of his toys on the floor and starts playing.
I inhale a lungful of air, feeling it fill up my chest, before I slowly exhale it.
“Approximately one-hundred and seventy-five days to go.”
I don’t know why I think graduating will magically fix everything. Logically, I know it won’t, but I need something to hope for.
Hope is the only thing keeping my heart beating right now.
After several minutes I climb back inside and play with Will for a while before I start on homework.
“Vi! I’m home!” My mom yells from downstairs and the garage door alarm chirps.
“Doing homework!”
Luckily, I don’t have much to do. Thanks to not doing cheerleading I have a lot more free time and I’ve spent most of it staying ahead on the piles of homework the teachers have assigned.
It only takes me an hour to finish and I carefully put everything away.
My room is perfectly neat and tidy. It never was before, but I can’t seem to thrive in chaos like I once did.
Heading down the stairs I find my mom in the kitchen, ingredients spread across the counter as she prepares to make dinner.
Shoving my hands into my back pockets I rock back and forth on the heels of my feet. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Oh, yes.” She blows out a frazzled breath. “Can you get some water boiling in the pot?”
I nod and walk over to the sink, turning it on to the hottest setting. I dig out the biggest pot we own and fill it up, sticking it on the stove and turning it on.
“Are you making the sauce from scratch?” I arch a brow at my mom who’s currently piling tomatoes into a food processor.
Her shoulders sag. “Y-Yes.” She bites her lip, looking unsure of herself. “Is that dumb? I thought I’d try something different.”
“No, I think it’s great,” I rush to assure her. “I was kind of in disbelief.”
“It’s probably silly,” she sighs, adding garlic and then basil. “You want to roll out the meatballs?”
“Sure.”
We work together and it doesn’t take long to get everything wrapped up. It’s after five o’ clock and my dad should be home by six at the latest.
Just as we’re plating the spaghetti and meatballs my dad arrives home.
“Ladies,” he calls, “something smells delicious.” He enters the kitchen tugging at his tie. It’s always funny seeing my dad dressed in a shirt and tie. He looks like he belongs in shorts with a Dad joke shirt, a beer in one hand, and standing over a grill. He hates the dressy clothes he has to wear and always changes first thing. He kisses my cheek, then my mom’s, and backs away pointing at us. “I’m going to change and I’ll be right down.”
My mom lets out a soft giggle when he leaves.
“What?” I prompt.
She shakes her head. “I was just thinking about how it’s a miracle he doesn’t rip his clothes off when he gets home since he hates them so much. Maybe once you’re gone to college he will. I won’t mind.”
A disgusted expression contorts my face. “Oh, ew, Mom. No.” I shake my head back and forth rapidly. “I don’t need that visual.”
“You asked.”
She has a point.
We set everything on the table, and thankfully there’s no more talk of strip
ping clothes, and by the time the two of us sit down my dad rejoins us.
“Better?” My mom asks him with a slight laugh.
“Much,” he replies. “This looks amazing, girls. You’ve outdone yourselves.”
“Mom made the sauce from scratch.” I flash her a smile, ignoring the pain in my chest. It’s moments like these when I’m reminded the most of the person missing. It’s not supposed to be three of us, and seeing the empty spot at the table makes my heart ache with sadness.
I spoon some spaghetti onto my plate and grab a piece of garlic bread, digging in.
“How’s school going?” Dad asks, waiting for my reply before he takes a bite.
“Uh … it’s school.” I press my lips together, not sure what else to say.
“Yeah, but how are the teachers? Your classes?”
“It’s all fine.”
His lips downturn and I know he’s not happy with my less than enthusiastic response.
But I don’t feel like explaining that it’s not the school. It’s me. I’m lost and I can’t find myself. I call out, but my voice echoes into an endless void.
My mom asks him about his day at work and the conversation moves from me.
“We should do something as a family this weekend,” my mom urges with a smile, nudging me back into the conversation.
“Like what?” I’m not being surly, just genuinely curious.
“There are all kinds of historical tours,” my dad pipes in enthusiastically. My mom and I look at him in disbelief and he chuckles. “Or not.”
“What about the mall?” My mom asks me, and I know she’s trying hard.
For months we’ve all been trapped in our heads, drowning in guilt and grief, but it’s time to pull ourselves out. Start living again. The only thing is, I’m not sure I’m ready.
But I owe it to them, and Luna too, to try.
“That sounds great, Mom. Maybe we could get some ice cream too?”
Trying. I’m trying.
Dad smiles and ruffles my hair, which he knows I hate but I have a feeling he’ll be doing it for years to come. “I’m down for ice cream and I need a new pair of work shoes, so the mall isn’t a bad idea.”
Whatever Happens Page 4
