“Are you related to Braden?” a dark-haired girl in the front row asks.
“She’s his cousin,” a girl says as she walks into the room. It’s Kristen, and her eyes are zeroed in on me, looking like she wants to kill me.
She must’ve found out about Jackson and me. He must’ve told her. Why would he do that? She could tell Braden. She could ruin our plan. And if Braden found out I was with Jackson, living at Brock’s house would be even worse. Brock might even try to forbid me from being with Jackson, saying I’m being disloyal to his sons. I could totally see him doing that. He only cares abouttheirhappiness, not mine.
“He just found out about her,” Kristen says, slowly walking to the back of the room. “She used to go to public school.”
She sayspubliclike it’s the most disgusting word to ever leave her mouth. And yet she doesn’t seem to have a problem being with Jackson.
“I can speak for myself,” I blurt out, glaring at her.
I should hide my anger, but I can’t. Not with her. I don’t know what’s going on with her and Jackson, but I don’t like it. I think she’s using him, and for some reason, he’s letting her.
“Kristen, please take your seat,” the teacher says. “We need to get started.”
She smiles at him. “Of course, Mr. Piedmont. And may I say, it’s a pleasure to be back in your class.”
What a suck-up. I didn’t think Kristen would be such a teacher’s pet.
The class is French Literature, which apparently is a required class. I don’t know French, so I don’t know how I’m supposed to read French literature.
It’s a long boring class and the teacher assigns five chapters to be read by tomorrow, along with a written summary of what we read.
Next is global economics, another required class. I can’t even understand half of what the teacher’s saying. These are more like college courses than high school.
By the time lunch arrives, I’m too exhausted to eat. I just want to go lie down somewhere and sleep. But I have a job to do. It’s the first day, and as Brock lectured me last night, first days are all about first impressions, and first impressions determine your future. So far, I’ve managed to keep a smile plastered on my face when people come up to talk to me. I’ve had a lot of people approach me since my introduction in Mr. Piedmont’s class.
Adding the Halliway name has suddenly boosted people’s interest in me. If they can’t get close to Braden, I’m the next best thing. Or the third best. Trystan would be second. I haven’t seen him all day. Or Braden. You’d think in a school this small, I’d at least see them in the hall. Maybe I’ll see them at lunch.
The small dining hall is lined with wood tables and chairs set up in neat little rows. There are three food stations — onefor salads, one for sandwiches, and one for hot foods. I go to the hot food line and see today’s entree is spaghetti and meatballs. Finally, some real food. I was worried the school lunch would be kale salads and protein shakes.
“I’ll take the spaghetti,” I tell the old lady serving the food.
“Do you have a card?” she asks.
“What card? I thought lunch was included.”
She smiles. “It is, dear. I was asking for your allergy card.”
“Allergy card?”
“A list of any food allergies, sensitivities, intolerances, or special diets?”
“Um, no. I don’t have any of those.”
She nods. “Well, if you do, the meatballs are gluten and dairy free.”
“Do they have meat?”
“Yes, of course. Grass fed organic beef.” She smiles as she dishes up my food. “Enjoy.”
I take the plate from her, then look for a vending machine. I really need a soda. It’s the only way I’ll stay awake this afternoon.
“Hey, where’s the vending machine?” I ask some girl who looks like a freshman.
“Over there.” She points to it next to the salad station.
“Thanks.” I walk over there and see that there aren’t any sodas in the machine. Just water and juice. “No soda?” I say, thinking out loud.
