She doesn’t even blink. Just stares at me, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if examining something… about my eyes? Then, without another word, she scoffs and steps around me, her shoes clicking against the polished floor. As she moves past, she plucks another strawberry from a small container in her hand, biting into it without breaking her stride.
Well, that was strange.
SIX
Rule Number Three ofAdeline’s Guide to Overcoming Loneliness: Adeline, don’t pressure yourself to “get over” loneliness (seriously, don’t do it, please). Embrace the imperfections of real life. It’s messy and real, but that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. Let it be as it is.
I brush off the girls’ remarks and make my way to the classroom. Not like I care. This is only a fraction of what I got in my old school. I’ll be fine.I’ll be fine, I remind myself as I walk into class. And besides, I have plans.
Plan A: Make my way to the back of the classroom so quickly that nobody notices me.
Plan B: If they do notice me, pretend I don’t notice them noticing me. Foolproof.
Plan C: If someone actually speaks to me, fake a phone call. Or a cough. Or death. Whichever’s more believable.
Not ideal, but I’ve operated on less.
And so, the moment I step in, I inch toward the back, trying to move as quietly and sneakily as possible, but I’m only halfway there when the teacher announces, “Adeline Ross!” looking straight at me with an expectant smile.
I freeze, swallowing a sigh. Of course I wasn’t planning on getting very far, not at this school. Plastering on a polite grin, I turn. “Good morning!”
“Would you mind introducing yourself to the class, Adeline? Just a quick hello. We like to get to know our new students here,” he says, gesturing for me to step up in the way teachers do.
Heat rises in my cheeks as everyone’s gaze lands on me. “Um, hi, I’m Adeline Ross,” I say, my voice shakier than I’d have liked.
“Anything else you’d like to add?”
I scramble for something to say.Come on, think, Addie.Literally anything. Absolutely anything interesting. Anything worthwhile.
How come I’m coming up with nothing?
Either my mind has temporarily blanked or there’s actually nothing interesting to say about me. For my own sake, I’m going to assume it isn’t the latter.
“Uh, I like reading… and writing?”
Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?
A snicker rises from the back, and I swear time stops. I guess people haven’t gotten any more mature since secondary school. “I like reading and writing too!” A guy’s voice rings out, almost mocking, and the guy next to him lightly smacks him on the arm, muttering, “Dude, shut up.”
A ripple of laughter follows, though this time, it feels more amused than cruel. I dart a glance at the guy, catching his easy grin before he turns back around, his friend smirking beside him. I just know I’m bright red.
I hear more snickering in the background, but I don’t even bother looking, because it’s nothing new, and honestly, it’s boring. Although I’m guessing they probably don’t get many new kids, since not many people actually get in. It’s astonishing that I managed to get in. Although I doubt I’ll be able to stay, not with my grades.The man that offered us the scholarship greatly overestimated me, and he is about to find that out, I think to myself as I try my best to listen to whatever it is the teacher is saying.
The more I try to listen, the more the teacher’s words seem to fade into the background because my attention gets suddenly drawn elsewhere.
It’s a pull I can’t quite explain.
And then I glance sideways, just for a moment.
My breath catches.
Oh.
Oh,no.
Because not even a few feet from me, casually,infuriatinglyunbothered, sit Christian Ryder, Will Carson, and Liam Grey.
If you’re breathing in the UK, youknowwho they are.
