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Chapter 18
Layla Alexander
Reese’s unexpected invitation has rendered me speechless. I’m saved from having to answer when our professor arrives and unlocks the door. He pushes it wide open, and it hits the wall with a loud clang.
“Good morning, guys,” he says, sounding winded. He props the door open. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bear this morning.”
Everyone streams into the large lecture hall, shuffling shoulder to shoulder as we head to our assigned seats. Jason’s right behind me, steering me through the crush of people.
I’m relieved I was saved from having to answer Reese, because I honestly didn’t know what to say to him. I was completely tongue-tied. Part of me wants to say yes, and part of me wants to run in the opposite direction.
Make up your mind. I thought you wanted to go on a date.
I do.
Then why didn’t you say yes? Finally, someone’s dumb enough to ask you out. You should have said yes.
“Hey, Layla, I’ll catch you after class, okay?” Reese says, waving at me as he heads for his seat at the back of the room.
Jason follows me, and when I slip into my seat, he looks down at the empty seat beside mine.
“It’s all yours,” I tell him. “This seat’s reserved for my bodyguard.”
He sits and hands me my backpack, which I set on the floor beside me and unzip it so I can retrieve my iPad and stylus for notetaking.
Charlene, who’s seated to my left, keeps looking at me, then at Jason, then back to me.
She’s using you, just like all the others.
No, she’s not. We’re friends.
You don’t have any friends.
As our instructor turns on the overhead projector and gets ready to begin class, I notice Jason scanning the room, the rows of students, the multiple exits, the professor’s lecture podium up in front. I wonder what he thinks about being back in school again.
Andrea and Sierra—that’s her name!—who sit directly in front of me, keep sneaking glimpses. Way back in the last row, Reese and his buddies are talking in low voices, occasionally laughing, until the professor glares at them and they quiet down.
Charlene leans close. “I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you.”
“Thanks.”
She’s just sucking up to you.
I sigh as I power on my iPad and open up my notetaking app.
One of my biggest problems is I don’t know who to trust. My whole life, kids have pretended to be my friend because of my notoriety, not because they really liked me. When I was young, my parents would throw these lavishly catered birthday parties for me and invite my entire class. There would be tons of food and cake and ice cream, chocolate fountains, pony rides, even magicians. Everyone who was invited showed up—not because they cared one iota about me, but because of the prestige it brought them at school to attend one of my parties. Even kids I didn’t know, kids from other classes, would ask to be invited, or they’d simply tag along with friends. Everyone acted like they were my best friend at the parties, but when the festivities were over, they went back to ignoring me until my birthday rolled around the following year.
By the age of eight, I’d figured out what was going on, and I told my parents I didn’t want any more birthday parties.
I was a painfully shy kid to begin with, and knowing that others just pretended to like me made it nearly impossible for me to trust anyone outside of my family. I remember wishing I was a nobody.
Youarea nobody.
I honestly wish people didn’t know who I am, or how much money is in my bank account. I’d love to be able to blend in anonymously with my peers. Instead, I’m far too visible, and for the wrong reasons. And if they knew the truth about me, it would be a thousand times worse.
They don’t know I’m the girl who hears voices in her head.
They don’t know I’m the girl who suffers from crushing anxiety and self-doubt.
