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Since the redhead opened dialogue, I stared over at her. I confirmed the snarl, and for some reason, I wanted to smile at it. I resisted, though, shrugging. “What?”
She made a look like it was obvious. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
She looked like she wanted to slap me, legit. Her shoulders dropped. “Why are you sitting here? You shouldn’t be.”
I noticed she said I shouldn’t. Not that I couldn’t. I turned, directing a finger at Cissy’s table. “You see that table over there? More specifically the blonde sitting at that table?”
Right away, she saw Cissy. I mean, the girl was snarling in this direction. I couldn’t determine if it was at me or the redhead, but at this point, I was well aware of the fact I’d probably just given up my chance at popularity at this new school.
“Cissy Armstrong?” the redhead questioned, and I nodded.
“Yeah. I’m hiding from her,” I said, and the redhead’s lips parted. “She showed me around today. I’m new, by the way. Name’s Bruno. Bruno Sloane.”
I noticed right away the redhead didn’t give me her name.
She crossed her legs. “Okay, so why are you hiding?”
I mean, I didn’t want to put Cissy’s shit out there but… I opened my hands. “She kind of freaks me out.”
That was putting it mildly, and though I hadn’t been trying to make a joke, I hoped for a smile out of the redhead.
I didn’t get one, but almost found something better when she lowered her shoulders. They relaxed.
Like she relaxed.
Her defenses weren’t so high up, and sitting this close to her, I did kind of see what Cissy was talking about. It was hard not to notice the bags under the redhead’s eyes, or the fact she couldn’t quite focus on me. She seemed not quite all there, but in a way that was more familiar to me regarding depression.
Sadness.
I knew that well, saw it every day at home. I’d lost count of how many schools I’d been to. My dad chased jobs. He’d have good days and bad, and eventually, a boss wouldn’t hold a job for someone who just didn’t show up to work.
Being here was new, New York different. I’d lived in the Midwest my whole life, but Dad got a tip on a job here. He’d brought me and my sister, Sloane. Our mom died when we were kids.
Sloane was only a year older than me, but she generally made the bulk of the money in our household. We couldn’t rely on Dad, so she always took part-time work and did odd jobs. I helped out too when I could, but generally, Sloane wanted me to focus on school. She was in school too but didn’t take it as seriously as I did. She said I was smart and was going to do something one day. She skipped school today to work, but I probably wouldn’t see her anyway since this school’s campus was so big and she was a year older.
The redhead gave no response to what I said about Cissy besides looking out of the window again. I was sure she was just misunderstood, and I knew that too. You got to be whoever you wanted when you came to a new school, but eventually, people found you out. A guy’s personality would show, and they’d find out I was just a nerd and label me like they did this girl.
I wasn’t sure of the redhead’s story, but her otherness I definitely got.
“Fawn Greenfield,” she said after a while, and I looked at her. She tipped her chin. “I’m Fawn.”
She’s Fawn.
I smiled at her. “Hi, Fawn.”
She nodded, sitting back. “And I guess you can sit here, but you probably shouldn’t.”
Again, she said shouldn’t. I put my milk down. “Why’s that?”
Once more, she gave a look like it was obvious. She gazed around. “Because no one does.”
I got that too. I got being the one no one sees.
I got being broken.
I saw that every day with Dad, and before she gazed away at the snow, I leaned forward. “Well, I’m okay with that. I’ll probably be here two seconds before I have to move.”
