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Chapter 4
Astrid
“Your father had your clothes dropped off for school.”
Scowling, I look at two leather suitcases that I guess are full of new clothes. At the kitchen table, I finish chewing my canned spaghetti. She sits calmly at the table, also staring at the suitcases with a forlorn look on her tired face.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asks. “The one with the monogram is yours.”
I open it on the floor after we clear the dishes into the sink. The yellow kitchen is barely big enough for us to turn around in, much less inspect the contents of a suitcase. But Mom wants to see my new clothes, and I’m less than excited when I pull out a long black pleated skirt. I scowl at it. “What am I, Amish? I’d rather have nerd branded on my ass than wear this thing.”
Mom’s half-hearted smile fades, and I know I’m unnecessarily bitchy. I also wonder how many pills she’s had today. I glance over at the other suitcase. She focuses on my questioning look. “While you’re getting an education, I’ll be cleaning up. Unfortunately, they don’t allow cell phones.”
It’s good news knowing she won’t be alone in the apartment with her pills. “Good luck,” I whisper, tossing the skirt back into the suitcase.
Grimacing, she shifts in her chair and then clutches her lower back. “It’s not a punishment, Astrid, not for either of us.” Mom has made tremendous sacrifices for me, especially before the accident. And she can hardly be blamed for what happened to her later.
I hold up a button-down shirt that looks like a shower curtain. I want to torch this mess in the backyard, but now who is the brat? “I’m grateful, Mom.” I’m a shitty liar. “But I’ve lived my own life for a long time, and I’m going to have to get used to this.”
Mom will stare me in the eye with an unblinking gaze whenever I’ve said something stupid. And suddenly I find myself shriveling from an intense glaze that I haven’t seen for a long time.
“Astrid, youth is expendable, so invest in your brain.”
***
I can’t sleep the night before my first day at Stonehaven for multiple reasons that race through my head. I stare at the ceiling until the first rays of sunlight enter my narrow room. I haven’t told anyone except Nova, and she swore she would never tell. I toss and turn until I’m on my side, staring at the school uniform hanging on the closet door—the shirt and the skirt with a navy sweater sporting the Stonehaven crest. My phone buzzes before I can smother myself with my pillow, and it’s time to go.
After I dress, I walk into Mom’s bedroom, but she’s still asleep. She looks peaceful sleeping, like it’s the only time her body gives her a break. I don’t dare wake her. I press my lips to her forehead and in my mind, I wish her good luck. I wish us both good luck.
I ride my bike to the academy, leaving the suitcase behind. I’m not sleeping at this place. It’s weird to live in a high school. I speed through the stone arch and pass the limos dropping off students. Nope, not for me. I’ll just pick up my class schedule and live at home.
A girl with brown hair in a white sundress is holding up a sign. She has on gloves, and not the kind I use to wash dishes. Her long wavy hair is perfect, with a headband holding it off her face. She looks thrilled to imitate a guy standing on the highway twirling a sign advertising a store closing. I slow my pace on my bike when I see the word senior printed on it.
Senior Orientation and Breakfast. Eight to ten.
I frown as I read it, and the girl frowns back at me as if I shouldn’t look at it. She turns her shoulders, pointing the sign toward the front gate so I can’t look at it anymore. Petty.
There’s only one place to have breakfast at Stonehaven, so I ride over to the dining hall. Instead of the back door, I park my bike in the front in the rack. My gaze stays on the floor while I walk through the old double doors and silently beg Gary to remain in the kitchen.
My heart starts racing worse than it does before a fight. At the Pit, I know what to do there. I don’t know what to expect here, but no one is looking at me. I sit at the last table by the swinging doors to the kitchen. No one ever sits at this table—it’s social purgatory. I look over the people in small groups, trying to assess the scene. I sigh deeply. I’m invisible, and right now, that’s a wonderful thing.
“Hey.” Someone beside me snaps his fingers. It’s the brown-haired guy who was with Wyatt. The one that called me it. Well, they all did. “Orange juice with seltzer. Table eight.”
I turn and look away, waiting for him to go, but he doesn’t take off. He jokes with a couple kids passing by the table, and one slaps him on the back like he’s the man.
“How was summer school, Pierce?” the other kid asks, “Finally score an A?”
Pierce laughs, but not too hard, and he doesn’t disappear from view no matter how small I scrunch down in my chair. He turns around and eyes me with a ridiculous smile on his pretty-boy face. Tall with light brown hair and a set of perfect white teeth, his hazel eyes sparkle as he sharpens on me again.
“Orange juice. Fresh squeezed. Seltzer.” He repeats it, and slowly, as if I have a short-term memory problem. The guy with long hair stops beside him and stares at me like I can’t see him being rude. The girl with the sign bounces in and rests her chin on the other guy’s shoulder. Then a few other kids start to take an interest in what they’re staring at, which is me.
“I don’t work here,” I finally say.
With a look of disbelief, Pierce looks at his friend as if he can explain.
“I don’t work here,” I repeat, “Anymore.”
“Anymore?” His mouth widens as if I’m mistaken about my purpose in life. “So, what are you doing here?”
