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“Sure, Mom,” I said, taking a seat at the breakfast counter. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been asked to join the board of trustees for the Darling Hill Community Initiative, and I’d like you to get involved. I think it would really round out your college application, and I know Columbia appreciates their prospective students taking the initiative and engaging in philanthropy.”
“What would it involve?” I asked.
I already had a full plate with the extra credit classes I was taking.
“Volunteering your time, but it’s flexible. You can participate as much or as little as you’d like. The charity delivers several services. There are plenty of projects you could get involved with.”
“I’m not sure, Mom. I’m taking five AP classes this year. My course load is stacked.”
Disapproval shone in her eyes. “I talked to your father, Celeste, and he agreed this will really complement your application.”
“I see.” Everything inside me tensed and tightened. “So when you said you’d like me to get involved, what you really meant was, it’s already been decided for me.”
“Celeste, don’t take that tone with me. This is a good thing, sweetheart. You’ve worked too hard not to give yourself the best possible chance you can of getting accepted into Columbia.”
“Got it, Mom.” I stood, unwilling to do this with her.
“Where are you going? I haven’t finished telling you about the project.”
“I’ve got an assignment to finish.”
“Celeste, come—”
But I was gone, heading back upstairs and into the sanctuary of my bedroom.
It wasn’t that I hated the idea of volunteering—I didn’t. Mom had a point, I needed to work on rounding out my application.
Academically, I was a sure thing. I had a 4.0 GPA, I was top in all of my classes, and I had an IQ of 132. It didn’t get much better than that. But what I had in intelligence, I lacked in sociability.
The kids at school didn’t want to get to know me; they never had. Right since fourth grade when it became increasingly apparent that my brain worked a little differently to everyone else’s.
It had never really bothered me before. I had Miles, and the two of us spent days quite happily judging the rest of the DA student population. But I didn’t have Miles anymore.
And with Harleigh gone, it meant I was all alone.
* * *
“It doesn’t sound so bad,” Max said as we drove into school. He still hadn’t gotten his permit, so I was stuck driving him around.
But part of me was glad for the company. Usually, I rode in with Miles or Harleigh, but that wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon, so it was either myself, or Max for company.
“I’m sure it’s fine. But I wanted to choose my own extra-curricular.”
“So choose one and tell Mom you can’t do the initiative thing.” He shrugged as if it was that simple.
But for him, I guess it was. Max had always struggled to toe the line where my parents were concerned, but something about him being the youngest and a boy meant that he usually got away with it with nothing more than a slapped wrist.
“You don’t get it,” I murmured, pulling into a parking spot. Kids milled around in their little cliques. The popular girls. The jocks. The nerds. But I didn’t fit anywhere.
“Toby is here, so I’ll see you later.” Max shouldered the door and hopped out, heading for his best friend.
A group of tenth grader girls giggled, watching the two of them, and my expression dropped. I got it. Max was cute. In a he’s-my-brother-so-it’s-still-weird-to-think-of-him-as-cute way. But I couldn’t help the stab of jealousy I felt at how easily he fit in with the masses.
It had never been hard for Max. People felt sorry for him living in my shadow and he embraced their sympathy. Their willingness to accept him as one of their own. Max was one of the most popular guys in school and he was only in tenth grade. While I could count my real friends on one hand.
Once I’d climbed out of the car, I found myself searching for Miles in the crowd. It was habit. One I needed to break considering his last message to me yesterday. I’d hurt him; it was only fair I gave him time to heal.
