Spaghetti it is.
I’m just glad I’ll be getting a meal over the weekend. If I put some aside, I can hide a tupperware container in the back of the fridge and eat on that until Monday.
I have my plan all worked out until supper time rolls around, and I’m left staring at an almost empty pot of noodles. I haven’t even eaten yet, and there’s hardly enough for a bowl.
“Damn, that was good, Rosalie,” Dad compliments as he digs into his second helping.
My arms fall to my sides as my appetite fizzles out. “Thanks…”
“She’s gonna make a hell of a wife one day,” Allan, one of Dad’s friends, boasts.
My skin crawls, and I lift my hand to pick at my elbow.
“Much better than her whore of a mother, that’s for sure.” Dad snorts.
I wince, my head ducking before I toss my bowl back into the cabinet and retreat to my room. I lock the door behind me before crawling under the covers and letting my tears silently soak into my pillow.
Charlie gives me a pointed look as I take my seat beside her on Monday morning. “Did you not sleep this weekend?”
The bags under my eyes are heavy and dark. I didn’t expect Dad’s friends to crash all weekend. I also didn’t expect Allan to keep testing my locked bedroom door in the middle of the night. I didn’t sleep a wink because I was ready to defend myself in case he got in.
“Just had a rough night,” I mutter.
“Okay…” She says quietly, but she doesn’t push as the room begins to fill with students slowly trickling in. Kairo, Roman, and Maddox surround Jordan as she flips her hair over her shoulder. She holds her head high, protected by the three walls who surround her as they take their seats in the far left corner of the room.
The intercom crackles to life overhead, and I put my head down as the morning announcements filter out.
Most of it is about homecoming or prom. There’s rambling about the king and queen titles as our senior year comes to a wrap, but the most alarming information is what follows next.
“…the Mystic High Valedictorian is none other than Rosalie Beckett, who’s maintained a stellar GPA since her freshman year. The runner-up and salutatorian is Maddox Campbell, who missed the mark by a hair. It was a tight race, and both should be proud of their academic achievement. Preparation for graduation starts next week, and we can’t wait to hear our scholars' speeches. Go Bull Dogs!”
I sink lower into my desk, keeping my head tucked in my arms as eyes sear into the back of me. Of all the things I could fucking achieve…
“Holy shit!” Charlie gasps. “My best friend is a genius!”
I hiss at her to shut up, but she doesn’t stop as she riffles through her backpack and slaps a pamphlet for Juilliard down on my desk.
“What is this?” I ask.
She gives me a withering look before jabbing a finger at the brightly colored front page. “Our ticket out of this stupid town, bestie. My dad is helping me do college prep this weekend, and you’re coming over.”
I push it back towards her. “I can’t afford that, Charlie.”
Her lips thin. “Neither can I, but if we put together a portfolio, we could try for a full ride.”
I shake my head, but she only begs harder.
“Please! Come on, Rose!”
Something bends and snaps in me as I whirl on her. “And what if I fail, hmm? Don’t you think that would be the breaking point for me—” My lips slam closed as I realize I’ve said too much.
Charlie chases my eyes as I try to avoid her, worry seeping into her features. “Rose, what do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” I wave her off before handing the pamphlet back to her. “It’s nothing.”
She takes it, then gently places it on her desk. “Rose, what if you don’t fail? Your songwriting is amazing, and any college would be lucky to have you. Just think about it, okay?”
I nod, but I can’t look her in the eyes. I feel like she would see right down to the depths of my soul. She’s observant like that, and I’m not ready to change her view of me. I don’t want her pity. She’s the only person I know who views me rather than the misfortune of my upbringing.
