So I smiled at her, and it must’ve made her suspicious. She hesitated in my doorway. “Do you want to talk about … anything?”
I pretended to misunderstand the question. “No, my schedule is already programmed. I’m taking Advanced Calculus, physics, AP Literature, World History, Introduction to Japanese, photography, and computer science.”
“Sounds like a balanced curriculum. Good night, then.”
She let herself out, doubtless praising herself for raising such an organized, rational child. The truth would devastate her, both of them, actually. My computer beeped, telling me I had an e-mail. It could only be Ryu or Vi since there was nobody else.
Are you home yet? I forget how long the flight is to Boston. Anyway, I’m back. My mom threw me the lamest WELCOME HOME party. There was Jell-O. You said you go to Blackbriar, right? I bet you missed your real friends, but I’m glad I met you. Talk soon! Vi.
“Real friends?” I said aloud.
Right. In a month or so, I might have people who pretend to like me, who want to know me, but they would be a means to an end. The Teflon crew had no idea of the Armageddon bearing down on them.
BLOOD IN THE WATER
In the morning, I completed the getting-ready process and went out to face the world. Deep down I was a little uncomfortable with my new clothes, even if I’d been wearing them all summer. Part of me still wanted to pull my hair into my face and hunch my shoulders and walk too fast, as if that could keep people from looking at me, judging me. It took all of the confidence I’d built up at SSP to step out of the brownstone. Our downstairs neighbor smiled at me as he came up the four steps that led into the building; Mr. Lewis was a notorious crank, but I thought he might actually doff his cap. I braced and headed for the T station.
My first stop had to be Blackbriar; the school uniform store was open as of today, and none of the clothes I had from last year fit me. My stomach churned as I went underground, used my Charlie Card, and got on a car that wasn’t as a packed as it would’ve been earlier in the day. Plus, I was heading away from the city center.
Blackbriar had an Auburndale address. The school was the size of a small private college, “lush, pastoral grounds where the curriculum is…” and some shit in the mission statement about respect and diversity, but there sure were a lot of white faces at Blackbriar. It went along with the country club nearby, and the price tag on my annual tuition.
My parents lived relatively close to the university without paying the prices of Beacon Hill or Back Bay. Which left me twenty minutes from school on the T, and the walk from the station wasn’t so bad, unless it was raining or snowing. On those days, I could count on some ass**le to splash me when he went past in his expensive sports car, paid for with Daddy’s money. Since my parents were college professors, I had good health coverage and excellent academic resources but no car. Their patent paid enough to keep me at Blackbriar, but my folks weren’t swimming in cash, unlike the majority of the school. People at school had summer homes in Martha’s Vineyard and jetted to Europe on winter break.
And I live in a walkup and ride the T.
For the first time in my life, I had trouble on the subway. See, homeliness was like a cloak of invisibility. People often pretended they didn’t see me or if they got caught looking, their gazes slid away. Sometimes I used to overhear whispered jokes or throwaway insults, and I was pretty inured to it. But today, two frat guys jostled over the seat next to me, and the victorious one immediately sprawled into my space, so I had to touch my bare knee to his or pull my legs closer together. Good old lavaballing.
I was supposed to look at him, I think, or acknowledge him in some way, but instead I sat silent through the ride despite a couple of attempts to catch my attention. Apparently, that merited a mutter of “stuck-up bitch,” as I got off the train.
Pass, jackass. Not interested.
I considered the purchase of uniforms a dry run, so to speak. Most of the students around today would be underclassmen or those who gained weight or lost it over the summer, but this should help me gauge people’s reactions. I was betting most wouldn’t recognize me. Since I was dressed in Converse, shorts, and a tank top, I ran from the station to the front gate, mostly to see how long it took.
Six minutes.
The black wrought-iron gates were open, inviting alumni and current students to enter the magical land of learning. During the school year, there would be guards here because the children of politicians, dignitaries, and executives attended Blackbriar. At pickup, the cul-de-sac would be full of black SUVs and bodyguards collecting the under-sixteen offspring of important people. I followed the paved drive toward the brick building with white trim and matching colonial columns.
Funny that my personal hell could look so charming.
The main building housed the administrative offices, the library, auditorium, and a few freshman classrooms. Green manicured lawns crossed with stone paths led between the various departments, each built in a unique architectural fashion. The athletic complex, also known as the Stinkatorium, was built in what I’d call Greek Revival style, with white stone facing, pillars, and a dome over the swimming pool.
The sheer scale of the campus sometimes made it hard to get to class on time, and it was worse when some jackass had you cornered. Not that the teachers cared why I was late. I stepped through the front door and scanned for changes. Since it was mid-August, the hall was practically empty, apart from a few scared-looking transfer students. I understood that reaction; Blackbriar was intimidating as hell, and it would probably take them a week to remember where all of their classes were located. Most of the buildings had been named after school benefactors, so that made it even harder to keep it all straight.
Student volunteers sold uniforms in the school store, where you could buy all kinds of branded crap: pens, notebooks, folders, jackets, T-shirts, hats, along with the required school garb. I knew my sizes, so I strode in, mostly wanting to get this over with. I froze for a few seconds when I recognized Cameron Dean, currently facing away from me while he fiddled with the stock. The old, awful humiliation washed over me, until I thought I might be sick.
Choke it down. Otherwise you blow your second chance, along with chunks. Stay calm. This could work to your advantage. If he puts the word out on you, it’ll make the first day of school easier.
So I took one breath, two, and thought of Kian. His face sprang to my mind’s eye, steadying me. And it wasn’t the fact that he was hot that bolstered me; it was that he’d liked me before. Or so he said.