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1
The Nefarious Three.
My hands shake as I walk up the cement staircase.
Public school.
It’s so weird.
Today, in the middle of September, I am going to public school for the first time in my life. I’m a senior and I’ve been homeschooled since kindergarten. My father isn’t concerned about me at all. I glance over my shoulder, toward our car, and I find that he’s already pulling out of the parking lot. I guess that means I can’t back out now. I’m not even sure I could find my way home if I decided to walk.
A new town. A new house. A new school. ‘A new life’ is what my dad told me. He wanted a fresh start. Somewhere away from the city. But I know better. The reason he wanted to move was because of me. Because of what the doctor told him.
I tuck that thought away for another time. Right now, I just need to focus on breathing.
I can do this.
I pull the door open and walk inside. There aren’t a lot of kids here yet—I’m early. But there are enough to make me feel sick.
Who is she?
Where did I put my calculus homework?
I wonder if Mrs. Wright is going to have a pop quiz. I should have studied.
New girl. Huh. She’s cute. I hate her already.
I hope the nefarious three will notice my new outfit.
Who is that girl? She’s hot.
I should skip lunch. I gained three pounds. My outfit is a little snug.
I swallow the nausea, looking for the administration office. I keep my head down, making sure I don’t make eye contact with anybody. I don’t want someone to approach me. It’s worse when a person is talking to me or thinking about me.
Since I can remember, I’ve had the ability to read the thoughts of others around me. I’m not surewhy, but it sucks. The only person I can’t read is my father. I’m thankful for that.
My head pounds as thought after thought hits me. It’s so loud that it feels like my skull is being rattled. I can’t make sense of anything.
I find the administration office and head inside, thankful when I shut the door behind me.
I’m so hungry. Is it too early to drink my shake? All this dieting and I’ve only lost three pounds. Maybe I should get a gym membership.
There is only one set of thoughts. I can handle one person.
“Hello.” The middle aged woman looks up at me, pulling off her reading glasses. “Can I help you, dear?”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m Henley Stone. I’m new.”
She slips on her glasses and begins rummaging through a very large stack of papers on her desk.
How exciting. A new student in our little school. She’s a pretty one, too. Where did I put those papers? I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached.
After a few moments, she pulls something out, passing it toward me.
“Here is your schedule.” She slides the paper across her desk. “If you have any problems, just ask one of the other students. They’ll be happy to help you. Or you can stop by my office any time.”
“Thanks.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, my stomach aching.
