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Kalum notices that I’m not following him when I wave to get Henry’s attention. Henry gives me a respectable nod and it is his way of greeting me. He is always professional and very quiet.
Camila introduced me to Henry when Kalum’s mother gave me the grand tour of the house on my second day here. He is quiet, dependable, and doesn’t say a word.
Kalum stands in front of the doorway leading inside the house and I could feel his heated stare on my back. I convinced his mother to switch my tasks with Camila because Kalum felt uncomfortable with me in his personal space. She was reluctant and expressed to me that she would talk to Kalum, but I assured her it wasn’t necessary. It was a way to escape on my own and go to a grocery store. Something I loved to do with my mom so that I could make them dinner before they made it home after a hard day at work.
When I was in middle school, I wanted to help my parents as much as I could and making them dinner was a one way, I could give my mother a break and my father would be happy that he could spend the rest of the evening with my mother as a couple.
“I’ll be right out, Henry,” I call out.
He gives me his usual nod again and slides into the driver’s side of the sleek back car and waits. I swear at first, I thought the man was deaf and couldn’t hear. He hardly says two words when you address him.
Kalum is leaning against the open doorway with his shoulder against the molding.
“Where is Henry taking you?”
“The grocery store,” I answer, walking toward the open doorway. He straightens like a tall statue and tilts his head down, watching me pass by into the house. His manly scent mixed with his cologne is like a breeze when I whisk by him reminding me of his intoxicating scent every time I'm in his car.
I’m making my way up the impressive staircase with my hand on the black iron railing, taking one step and then the next. Kalum is following me, taking his time up the steps trailing behind me.
I’m excited to be getting out of the house and begin to quicken my pace and make it to the top and enter the hallway leading to my bedroom to drop my backpack and retrieve my little wallet just in case I need to buy myself something. I have some money saved up from my bracelet sales and Mrs. St. Claire has given me the two hundred as promised every week. I’m saving every cent unless there is something I have no choice to buy like feminine products.
Kalum’s parents have been nice enough to provide for me the basics being a teenager living under their guardianship but on my eighteenth birthday, all that ends, and I’ll just be the hired help.
The live-in housekeeper.
My plan is to find a way to leave here. This can’t be it for me. I miss my parents so much. I miss their hard work, their guidance, and most importantly their love. A love that was unconditional and now they’re gone.
I quickly make my way down the stairs, trying to shake the grief I will always feel inside my heart for not having my mother and father with me anymore. I slow my pace because Kalum is walking briskly down the stairs.
He pauses and turns and takes the next two steps down to be at my level. I lower my gaze in my excitement to get out the house and go somewhere where no one is judging me, and I can just be myself.
It has been exhausting being around Kalum and his friends. To this day, no one from Spencer High has called me to see if I’m okay. I thought Marcus would at least call by now, but I guess he quickly moved on.
Marcus once told me he cared about me deeply. We were together for three years and always spent time together. He respected me and I was attracted to him.
But one thing I noticed, he never gave me butterflies in my stomach, and he never looked at me the way Kalum does.
When Kalum watches me, he thinks I don’t see him from the corner of my eye when we are seated in class or when he drives me to school but I feel it. It is like he is trying to peel me back a layer at a time to see what I look like underneath.
Not in a creepy way but in a way that makes me believe he is trying to figure me out. When he is near me, it is like time stops and everything fades away.
He turns his head slightly before he takes the next step up the stairs. Something passes in his expression. “Be careful,” he mutters.
Gripping my small wallet anxiously with my bank card and the card Camilla gave me to purchase the groceries for the St. Claire household, I answer softly, “I will.”
I’m elated by his words that hints to me that he cares but maybe I’m reading too much into it because his words seem nice, but he is looking out for himself. He has made it clear he isn’t thrilled with me being here but living in this world in the upper-class of Spencer, I can understand why.
In this world, you only matter if you come from a wealthy family or if you look a certain way. If you are considered good looking and dress in designer clothes or if you drive an expensive car that shows everyone you can fit in, is what ultimately matters.
I don’t represent any of those things. My nails are painted with nail polish from the dollar store, and I don’t own any clothes that are flashy, and I don’t have a car. I’m the poor girl that is homeless living with a family that makes me look like an intruder that has no right to be seen among them.
After leaving the house, Henry makes the ten-minute drive to a shopping strip that has an upscale grocery store, a consignment store, and boutique shops. My eyes scan the rest of the area and notice that adjacent to the parking lot, there is a shop that fixes street race cars and offers modifications to other types of vehicles. What really captures my attention is a beautiful black Jeep Wrangler with a for sale sign.
My eyes light up and I glance at Henry from the back seat. “Henry, would it be too much trouble if I went over there before heading inside the grocery store?” I point behind me toward the automotive shop.
He looks over at where I’m pointing and checks the time. We headed out early enough that it would give me enough time to inquire about the Jeep.
He gives me a nod and I grin in excitement wondering how much they would want for the beautiful shiny Jeep. My mother loved Jeeps. She told me she had to sell hers back in college because she was pregnant with me and needed the money. She would show me pictures of how fun it was when you unzipped the soft cover and could feel the breeze in your hair while driving.
