Then I see her.Okay, so I don't know no one.I know one someone.
And it's someone I actually like.
"Carleigh? Holy shit,Carleigh!" I'm so grateful that she's here and that she even remembers me that even as she hugs me, I momentarily forget that I can barely even bear to be touched, and I hug her back hard.
Carleigh Stanger's family lived next door to my Grandma Mimi - my mom's mom - before she passed away. We used to visit her up here twice a year and I would play with Carleigh. Always. She was my best vacation friend. I haven't seen her since we were twelve. I peek over at the front of the room just in time to see Sam smile and walk out of the classroom.
"They call me Carl these days," Carleigh informs me. "What's up? How are you? What are you evendoinghere?" she asks excitedly. I laugh at her energy.When was the last time I actually laughed?
"Slow down,Carl.I... well, I moved here," I explain.
"So you're here for good? Like you go to school here now? Like for the rest of the year?"
"That's the plan," I confirm, and I'm rewarded with her ear-to-ear grin.
TWO
P R E S E N T D A Y
CARL IS EAGERto catch up, but we both have to get to different classes. We hastily compare schedules and learn that we share the same lunch period, and plan to meet up then. My next four classes pass slowly. I feel slow in general, because of my medicine, but I'm grateful not to be panicking. None of my teachers make me do that thing where they ask you to stand up and introduce yourself. Say a few things about yourself. I couldn't be more thankful. What could I possibly say?
Everythingaboutmyself has been stripped from me.
I'm neither a tomboy nor a cheerleader. My friends aren't my friends anymore. In fact, they're my enemies. I don't like football anymore. I hate it. And everyone who thinks it's the axis the world revolves around. My boyfriend -ex-boyfriend- is my worst fucking nightmare. I've done nothing over the last nine months but cry, read, cry, listen to music, and cry. Oh, and have panic attacks. I'm sure that would all make for an inspiring introduction.
As I walk around the building to the parking lot where I agreed to meet Carl, I wonder how the past few years have changed her. No one is the same person at eighteen they were at twelve. I don't suspect she's much like my girl friends from back home -exgirl friends.The girls who, for all of last year, Itriedso desperatelyto fit in with. As much as any innate tomboy really can, anyway. Those girls like boys, and cars, and football, being popular, and trying to become more popular - an exceptionally empty ambition in a town whose social scene is barely big enough to accommodate cliques at all. But empty or not, right now, all I want to do is figure out who the "cool kids" are here, and avoid them like the freaking plague. I hope Carl is more of an outsider type. The truth is I could use a friend, but I don't think I could handle a clique, anddefinitelynot the popular clique.
But deep down I know Carl is no loner. She's always been friendly, and she's pretty damn gorgeous, too. The last time I saw her, her naturally blond hair hung down to her waist, but now it's cut to her shoulders in a more contemporary style. Unlike me. My auburn hair still hangs long, and I rarely style it into anything other than its natural boring waves. When I saw her this morning, Carl was wearing eye shadow, liner,the works, and she did an expert job of accentuating her bright green eyes. I used to wear makeup to school. Used to spend twenty full minutes on it every morning. Now I wear concealer, and sometimes mascara and lip gloss, and that's just to draw attention from the bags under my eyes from not sleeping. But nothing more than that. I don't want to seem like I’m trying. When people think you're trying, they think you're looking for something. And I'm looking for nothing.
When Carl shows up, she's flanked by another girl with blond hair, but it's definitely not natural, and neither are her pink dyed tips. They both smile warmly and Carl hugs me again.
"This is Tina. Tina, Rory," Carl introduces.
"Hi," I murmur, but Tina pulls me in for a hug just like Carl did.Not what I expected. I tense and hold my breath until she pulls away.
"Great to meet you, we only have forty three minutes for lunch. Diner good with you?" she says a mile a minute.
"Uh, sure." I fall into step behind them as we head to what I assume is one of their cars.
"We get to leave campus for lunch?" I ask. My old school made us eat in the cafeteria.
"Seniors only," Carl explains, "but most juniors leave too, once they get their license. The school isn't especially strict about it."
I'd forgotten that they don't get their license until seventeen in New York. Sucks for them.
Just as Carl clicks open her Audi A4, a pack of guys pushes its way through the stream of students, which parts for them like they're the chosen people on exodus from Egypt. Like I have a built-in sensor for him, my gaze shifts straight to Sam. The pack's obvious leader. Tucker - who also happens to be exceptionally good looking - is with them also, as are the four others with them.Predictable. Though none of them have anything on Sam. I don't need to ask where they fall in the high school hierarchy. One of the guys jabs Tucker with his elbow to get his attention before he turns and jogs over toward us. Tingles of anxiety lace the soles of my feet, shooting upward through my limbs, spiking my heart rate.
Tina doesn't see him approach before he grabs her, yanking her arm to pull her against him. She lets out a startled gasp.
I react.
I drop my backpack and seize his arm to unlatch him from my new friend.
"Get the hell off of her!" I hiss.
He stills. Tina stills. I retract my hand.
Finally, I notice Tina'sotherarm - frozen in its outstretched position, fingers affectionately caressing his cheek.
