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“Do you have an extra pencil?”
I nodded. Turning to pick up my bag, I pulled out a pencil and handed it over.
“Thanks.”
“Welcome,” I whispered.
The class went into a flow, people answering questions and listening while Mr. Blankenship started his introduction to Economics. Everything he was saying was familiar to me since I had read ahead the night before. Erik teased me for doing that, but I called it being prepared.
An hour passed, and soon everyone was standing and moving toward the door.
“Thanks for the pencil,” the girl behind me said, standing and setting the pencil on the desk.
“No worries. Keep it.” I waved it away.
Her dark eyes scanned my face before she shoved the pencil behind her ear and into her black chin-length hair.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
“Am I that obvious?”
She laughed. “Oh yeah. You stand out. My name’s Zada.”
She held out her hand, revealing an arm covered in tattoos. Her nail polish was black, and each finger had a silver ring. I took her hand and shook it.
“Everly.”
“Nice to meet you, Everly. Where you from?”
“Seattle.”
Her eyes went wide, and she whistled. “Damn. That’s one hell of a move.”
I shrugged. “My mom’s decision. Not mine.”
She nodded, understanding I had to go where my mother went. “How do you like it so far?”
“Eh. It’s okay. Definitely not home.”
“I imagine it’s one hell of a culture shock.”
“Oh yeah. Big time.”
“So, this might be weird, since we just met and everything, but there’s a party this weekend. Not the kind of party the people at this school would go to, but it’s good times. You should come.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m not much for parties and people.”
“I can see that about you,” she said, her eyes skimming my simple jeans and top. “Spend the rest of this week thinking on it. You never know, you might have fun. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow in class. See you around.”
“Okay. You too.”
She left, and I grinned to myself. Maybe I wasn’t going to remain the outsider after all.
2 Everly
NO ONE SPOKE TO MEin my second class, and I was relieved. It had taken all the baby steps to even get to the classroom in the first place. I was glad to see the room empty, and I was able to snag the last seat to be sure no one sat behind me.
It wasn’t long before the bell was ringing, and my day was over. Mom was parked out front, waiting to pick me up in the Range Rover, one of the few things she had been able to keep after the divorce. Prenups and all that jazz. Erik had a car because he was, “Smart enough to have asked for one before your dad died.” Mom’s words, not mine. Which meant he could drive himself home when school was over. He had more classes than me.
