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“Actually, she’ll be attending under the name Oaks,” Stanley corrects. “We feel with her history she’ll have a better chance of fitting in with a new name.”
I snort and shake my head but remain silent.
I mean, he’s right but that doesn’t mean I have to like the fact he said it aloud.
“A name change won’t erase her history, but I suppose it’s a good start to a new future.” Mr. Jefferson’s kind hazel eyes look me over. “Is that okay with you, Mallory?”
“Stanley can call me whatever he wants.” I give him a saccharine smile. “Right, Stan?”
Stanley blanches and glances at Lane who looks confused. I often have that effect on people.
Mr. Jefferson frowns but it’s one of concern, not annoyance.
We move on and I listen to them drone on about how things are different and where things are. It’s boring. I don’t need a tour.
“So, back on topic… what are your interests, Mallory?”
“My name isn’t Mallory, it’s Scandal,” I state firmly.
“My apologies,” Mr. Jefferson continues. “What are your interests, Scandal?”
“You’re just going to let her use a ridiculous name like that?” Stanley asks, looking between me and the principal.
“I’ve been doing this for many years, Stanley, as you know.” The man pats my foster block on the shoulder. “I’ve learned to pick my battles and if Scandal would like to be known as Scandal, then that’s what I’ll refer to her as. A name is just a name, we let our pupils prove themselves through grades and behavior.”
“You couldn’t have chosen the name Chloe or Rachel or something wholesome and normal?” Stanley shakes his head at me like I’m exasperating. “You do realize in a few months you’re going to be an adult and nobody is going to take you seriously with a name like Scandal.”
“Depends if I go into porn or not,” I reply, my tone high and wistful.
Lane slaps a hand against her mouth and Stanley’s entire body starts shaking with anger. He really doesn’t like me, which has me wondering why the fuck I’m even here.
Mr. Jefferson is trying his hardest not to laugh. At least he has a sense of humor.
“Back on topic,” the principal tries again, “interests? Hobbies?”
I shrug my shoulders and don’t reply.
“I’m sure we’ll find you something. The best thing you can do is join one of our many clubs and groups to make friends quickly.”
“I’ll check them out,” I lie. I doubt there’s a single club I’ll be interested in.
“That went well, don’t you think?” Lane asks both Stanley and me when we all climb back into the car. “Are you happy with the school choice?”
“Sure.”
“She’s going there whether she wants to or not,” Stanley mutters and pulls out his phone.
I flip the bird at his back and Lane gives me a pointed look.
I sit and look out the window, my brows pinched together, my legs crossed. I couldn’t burrow myself into the corner of the car anymore if I tried.
That tour was hell on earth. Mr. Jefferson is alright as far as teachers go, but he’s not my ally or my friend and as soon as I enroll I’ll be pushed to the backdrop like kids always are and forgotten about. That suits me just fine. I’m out of here as soon as I turn eighteen anyway.
“We will go and get you fitted for your uniform in town, and then head out for something to eat if you like?” Stanley asks, his tone a lot softer than before. “Do you feel like pizza or Indian? Maybe Mexican?”
“Wendy’s,” I reply quietly.
“Wendy’s it is.” He turns right at the next stop sign and away we go, for unhealthy food and my favorite shake in the entire world.
When we arrive at Wendy’s after a long hour of me trying on the fancy-ass uniform I’m going to start wearing Monday, I can see this is some kind of high school dive. It is heaving with teens on their lunch break. They all cluster around cars and trucks with their food, music blares through open windows and some are even dancing on a small patch of grass.
I press my face to the glass to get a better look before we hit the drive-through.
It’s hard to see because of the circle of students around the dancers but I make out a guy with bleach-blond hair, cap on backwards, shuffling like a pro with a guy with brown hair. They’re laughing and joking around but they’re really good.
Their uniforms are untucked and their ties are off. They are so teen-boy cool.
I smile slightly at the sight of it and twist to continue watching through the tinted back window as we vanish around the bend of the drive-through.
“You won’t be eating here at lunch every day,” Stanley informs me.
“I wouldn’t want to,” I retort. I may have asked for Wendy’s today but it’s the first time I’ve had one in a really long time. “Do I look like the kind of person who eats fast food every day?”
