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6
It takes just under two hours to get to Oceanside, and the whole time I’ve spent it nursing a hangover from the party Saturday night. Normally I’d be over a hangover in a few hours, but this one has lingered for a hell of a lot longer, and I can’t seem to clear my head. I spent all of Sunday in bed, avoiding Eastern’s texts and pretty much hiding from the world. He’d come to my house asking to see me, but I’d refused, ordering Libby, my foster carer, to send him away. In the end he gave up, no doubt running off to Camden and theHackney Hackers Crewhe’s replaced me with. I still can’t believe he would be stupid enough to join a gang. The one thing we’ve always promised each other is to never,ever, get mixed up in a gang. I feel betrayed. Then I remember how, despite the dangerous situation I put us both in standing up to Camden the way I did, he still stuck up for me. He still got me home safe. I was out of my head, and he made sure I was okay. Despite my anger at him still, guilt lacerates my chest.
“Shit,” I curse, feeling like the worst person in the world. I should’ve at least said goodbye. I decide to respond to his texts the moment I get time alone.
“You alright, Alicia?” my social worker, Annie, asks me as she pulls into a long winding drive. At the end of it, I can just about make out my new home for the next three goddamn years. A white brick building that looks more like a mini Buckingham Palace than a school for kids who are one step away from prison. Other people might be impressed by its grandness, but I know appearances are deceiving. Just because the outside looks pretty, doesn’t mean to say what goes on inside reflects that. My gut tells me that my time at this place isn’t going to be a breeze. More like a bloody storm.
“Alicia, I asked you a question,” Annie states, the tone of her voice irritating me.
Pressing my eyes shut, I bite back my usual sarcastic retort and just nod my head. Even that movement has my stomach roiling.
“Car sick,” I lie. Heartsick more like. I don’t actually think I’m going to puke; I just feel nauseous and have a banging headache.
“We’re here now anyway. No need to throw up in my car,” she responds, eyeing me warily. I’ve half a mind to shove my finger down my throat to make myself sick just to piss her off and ruin the perfect black leather seats. Then again, I’ll probably get most of it on myself and I really don’t want to turn up on my first day smelling of sick. I do have some self-respect.
“You should’ve said earlier. I would’ve got you a bag or something,” she continues, reprimanding me before rolling down my window from the control on her side of the car. A flush of fresh air hits my face, and I breath in deeply, cracking one eye open.
“Well, here we are, Alicia,” she singsongs, slamming her foot on the break and throwing me forward before my seatbelt saves me. I’m pretty sure she did that on purpose, and I have a very sudden need to punch her in the face.
“Time for a fresh start,” she smiles, grinning inanely. She looks as pleased as punch with herself. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s done me a solid getting the judge to send me here rather than juvie.
“Fresh start?” I spit, unable to hide the sarcasm from my voice.
“That’s right, Alicia. You have a chance to set things straight.”
Is she actually okay in the head? Theonlyreason I’m doing this is so I don’t get thrown in jail for eighteen months and miss out on seeing my kid brothers for all that time. At least this way I’ll get to visit them regularly, even if it is every three months or so.
“Come on, let’s get you checked in,” she says.
The minute she unlocks the car door, I fling it open and stride to the trunk to grab my bag. That’s all I have, one threadbare rucksack filled with all my earthly possessions; a few clothes, a couple of photos, my sketchpad and pencils, and my mobile phone. Not much for almost seventeen years of life. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I briefly flick my phone on and can see another load of messages from Eastern. Without reading any of them, I send him a quick message.
Will respond L8R.
“Let’s get you inside. Mr Carmichael, the principal, is waiting to meet you in his office,” Annie says.
I shove my phone in my pocket, grunting in response as I follow her reluctantly up the front steps and past some girl who glares at me from beneath a pair of Ray Ban’s. Her long red hair falls over her shoulders in pretty waves and matches the colour of her lips, which are pulled up in an ugly snarl. I might not be able to see her eyes, but her resting bitch face tells me all I need to know about the kind of personsheis.
“Eww,” she says, wafting her hand under her nose, confirming my thoughts.
Bitch. Class bully. One to watch. That pretty much sums her up.
“Watch it,” I snarl, stepping towards her.
Annie grabs me by the arm, pushing me none too gently through the door. “Let’s not get yourself expelled on the first day now, Alicia,” she reprimands me.
The girl just laughs.
* * *
“Well,that pretty much sums this term up. Any questions, Alicia?” Mr Carmichael, my new principal, asks me.
I look up from the wad of papers he’s handed to me and narrow my eyes at him.
“Yeah, where’s my room? I need to fucking lie down. I’ve got a banging headache.”
He smirks, looking at me from over the rim of his glasses, a flop of salt and pepper hair falling into his eyes. Pretty sure he’s trying to figure me out, just like I’m doing the same to him. Either that or he’s a perv.
Thing is, he might think he knows who I am because of the way I choose to present myself, but he’ll never get to know the real me. That privilege is reserved for those closest to me.
