Chapter 3
QUINN
I’d lived in the Brizendine Prep bubble for so long that I had no idea how to blend in and mingle with new kids. I’d been friends with Celeste and Naomi since we were eight years old and meeting new people was daunting.
Elise Nguyen spoke so quickly and non-stop that I couldn’t figure out whether she was someone I wanted to hang out with. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t concentrate. You see, finding out my locker was beneath Miller Trask’s had thrown my world off kilter.
My mother had concocted a story as to why I was now attending the public high school.
I would say that my parents had recently divorced and if pressed for more details, would explain how traveling to Brizendine Prep, way over on the other side of Pine Ridge required a lot of time away from home.
I doubted that anyone would care, but Mom was insistent I keep to the script and under no circumstances was I to mention our dire financial situation.
In fact, she preferred that I keep to myself.
Nobody could know that the Devereauxs were broke.
Which is why, not even an hour ago, I’d sauntered to the bus stop, clutching my tote bag, nervous, tentative, embarrassed that I had to catch the bus, but nonetheless dressed in a designer outfit, a cute pale pink top with a short pleated skirt and white sneakers.
So, while I didn’t own a car at this moment, I didn’t have to dress as if I didn’t.
And Mom had insisted that, as a Devereaux, I should wear my hair up and put on my usual face of makeup; we may be poor, but class was priceless.
Of course I’d half expected to run into Miller Trask at some point, but not at the bus stop because I’d seen—or rather heard—him ride a motorbike and presumed he rode it to school.
And I hadn’t realized that his younger brother was in high school.
Like, he looked like he should be in sixth grade.
I had slowed my walking to almost a crawl because I didn’t want to interact with either of the Trask boys, or anyone for that matter.
Mom had specifically instructed that I keep away from them way back when they first moved to the neighborhood. The Trasks were trashy, she said, bad neighbors who brought down the level of our street with their messy yard, big dog and noisy motorbike roaring down the lane.
Yet, here I was, now standing in front of Miller and the locker we apparently shared, and feeling a tad out of place with my pristine white sneakers and my dangling rose quartz earrings, while he wore a faded t-shirt and dirty shoes.
Elise studied my class timetable, letting out a yelp of delight to find we had the same AP English and Chemistry classes.
Mrs. Shelton was apparently an awesome teacher, but Mr. Lennox could be strict.
I should avoid the cafeteria’s pizza at all costs unless I liked the taste of cardboard.
And she was in the photography and dance fit clubs if I wanted to join either of those.
I didn’t want to reject her kindness because anyone who had daisy and donut nail art had to be a fun person.
And her constant chatter, though initially overwhelming, was growing on me.
Plus, she wasn’t nosey and didn’t ask me a bunch of questions.
But Mom’s warning remained steadfast in my head—the danger of getting too close to people.
Hiding the Devereaux secret was of utmost importance.
This hurt my heart because the idea of not enjoying or participating in my senior year was devastating.
I’d always loved school and Brizendine Prep had been my home away from home, a sanctuary so to speak.
Especially in the last year when Mom and Dad’s incessant fighting reached breaking point and their tolerance of one another expired.
Being at home in those days had been hard, so I’d spent long hours at school doing homework, study, sports and clubs.
And in the few days since I’d come back from the city, I knew this new reality wasn’t going to be easy.
Mom’s anger was still fresh, her resentment raw, and her blood pressure was probably sky-high.
Abiding by her wishes to keep a low profile was my only choice.
I’d keep to myself and focus on my studies and college applications.
“Dance Fit’s not really my thing,” I said, though the words were heavy in my chest. I loved to dance, and along with Celeste, Naomi, Lara and Freya, we'd had a social media account where we made videos and uploaded them all the time. I wondered if they’d be making videos without me now.
Elise wasn’t fazed. “Photography, maybe?”
“Nah,” I said, this time feigning disinterest, “art’s not my thing.”
“Well, there’s a huge range of...”
“No. But thanks,” I said, hating myself for being so abrupt.
“Oh.” Elise’s bright eyes dimmed. “Okay.”
I immediately felt bad and wished to take my words back, but Mom had said to protect the family name at all costs. With Elise about to leave, I impulsively called out, “Uh, what about soccer? Am I too late to join?”
Elise turned and smiled, checking her phone and beaming as she said, “Trials are tomorrow. After school.”
I already knew that and I wasn’t sure why I pretended I didn’t, just that I didn’t want to be a complete jerk. Mom wanted me to be invisible here at Snow Ridge High but that didn’t mean I had to make myself unpopular.
“Cool, I might sign up for that,” I said, and because I was desperate not to be disliked, “By the way, I love your nails.” Compliments never went astray either.
“Hey, thanks,” Elise said, bubbly again as if I hadn’t just been rude. “Look, you can do it online.”
I pulled out my phone and followed her directions and within minutes I had registered for soccer trials.
“I can meet you in the cafeteria for lunch,” Elise suggested. “Look for me. I’ll save you a seat.”
“Uh, I brought a lunch bag,” I said. Mom had packed me a sandwich, grapes and Oreos, even though I hadn’t taken a lunch bag since kindergarten.
Brizendine Prep’s meal program had been like a gourmet restaurant, the menu full of goodies like Eggs Benedict for breakfast and sushi for lunch, not to mention the smoothie bar and coffee machine.
Already there were so many things I was missing about my old school.
“That’s okay. You can bring it to the cafeteria,” Elise said, and I realized she thought I was worried about bringing my own food, not avoiding her friendship.
I smiled, neither nodding or shaking my head, but in what felt like another schizophrenic moment, I declined her offer to walk me to calculus class, instead taking a roundabout way to find the correct room.
Used to assigned seating at Brizendine, I was surprised that I could choose my own seat.
“Are you new here?” A girl with thick curly hair eyed me as I stood there surveying the room. “Just sit where you want. Mr. Struff doesn’t care.”
And that was the other odd thing. The teacher was sitting at the front desk and the room was loud and chaotic as kids chatted and found seats, yet he was doing and saying nothing, just scrolling on his phone.
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks,” I said, crossing the room to a seat in the middle row. Inconspicuous and low-profile was my aim. I plonked myself down, trying to discreetly check out the other students, many who were leaning and talking to one another or busy on their phones.
At Brizendine, phones were handed in as we entered the room and the minute the teacher arrived, silence ensued. Not so here. It was another couple of minutes before Mr. Struff looked up and asked, “Is everyone here? Are we ready to learn?”
Unenthusiastic groans rang about the room and Mr. Struff half laughed. “Yeah, I’m just as excited to be here too.”
Brizendine teachers didn’t joke or have fun with us. There was a very distinct line between students and teachers and it was never crossed. I blinked in disbelief as a student in the front seat stood up and tossed Mr. Struff a red apple.
“Hey, this is for the A I’m gonna get in this class,” the tall lanky boy said with a laugh.
Mr. Struff caught the apple in his right hand. “Thanks, Spencer,” he said, shining it against his shirt, “we’ll see what we can do.”
That was another thing. Mr. Struff was dressed very casually in a light blue polo shirt, jeans and Converse sneakers. Brizendine male teachers wore button down shirts, some even ties and suit jackets, and the women wore knee-length skirts, cardigans and sensible pumps.
Mr. Struff checked his laptop screen and glanced around the room. “I see some new faces,” he said, his gaze holding on me, “and some new-to-me faces. Let’s do a roll call.”
I sat nervously as he called out names, an unfamiliar tension building in my chest as he addressed Thomas Chadwick, then Devon Das. I could barely draw in a breath as he looked in my direction, “Quinn Dever...” He paused as if he was uncertain of pronunciation.
I swallowed thickly. “Quinn De-ver-oh” I squeaked, confirming the correct way. Yes, my voice came out as quiet as a mouse—exactly how I felt.
“Quinn Devereaux,” Mr. Struff smiled. “Welcome.”
My mouth twitched and I tried to say thank you, but the words disappeared down my throat, unspoken.
Heads rotated, everyone checking out the new girl but I was momentarily overwhelmed, a fish out of water, not knowing how to cope in this new and strange environment.
I lowered my head as Mr. Struff continued with the roll, focusing on calming my breathing, thankful for the yoga course Celeste had persuaded Naomi and I to do last year.
Except, my heart sunk as I remembered Celeste and Naomi and the whole senior year were on a three day trip right now, bonding and creating memories and having fun.
It had been planned for months, a Brizendine senior tradition, but I was stuck here at Snow Ridge High.
Celeste’s reaction to my news had been less sympathetic than I’d imagined. Somehow, she’d made herself the victim in all of this, that my withdrawal from school had wrecked her plans, making the video call extremely awkward.
“What? How could you do this?” Her mouth had puckered, clearly distraught and close to tears. “We were supposed to go to camp together and win another soccer championship and go away for spring break and do our college tours together...and now you’re deserting me?”
Yes, unexpectedly, she blamed me and wallowed in self pity, even though I was the one who was going through the major crisis.
“It’ll be okay,” Naomi had comforted Celeste. “It’s sad for Quinn, but we can catch up on the weekends, right?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll come visit you guys in the weekends. Every weekend.”
Celeste had huffed and her tear stained face had softened but there had been no compassion to my new situation, all she could think was that I was abandoning her.
And it seemed she was still punishing me.
I’d texted her last night, asking if they’d arrived at camp and her reply had been an emoji.
Okay, I understood that. They were probably busy and tired from the drive and settling into their cabins, so I’d texted again first thing this morning: Hope it’s all good. Fill me in on the gossip!
Celeste’s reply had been somewhat short: No gossip, so weird without you.
But also understandable. Senior camp was hectic and I was surprised she had access to her phone. We’d chat later tonight.
By lunch break, I realized my tote bag, though stylish, was impractical for all the text books I’d be carrying around.
Because by this stage, I’d decided that in order to avoid Miller, I’d make minimal visits to my locker and therefore have to cart my books around all day.
I’d find a backpack in my closet at home.
I hadn’t intended to go to the cafeteria but Elise cornered me after class and I didn’t have the heart to play the mean girl role again.
Hopefully I could sit at the table and be invisible.
The cafeteria was bustling with kids and trays and scraping chairs and the nasty smell of fried food.
It was probably a good thing I’d brought my lunch.
Sitting at a circular table near a large window, Elise introduced me to Sienna. Brayden arrived with a dish piled high with insipid looking pasta. There was no sign of Miller, a blessing.
“So, you’re new to Snow Ridge?” Sienna asked, a thin girl with a short bob cut that featured three shades of purple. I could sense her studying me intently, as if something about me bothered her.
“To Snow Ridge High,” I answered, hesitating before opening my lunch bag.
“Oh?” Sienna sounded genuinely interested.
“Yeah, Miller said you’re his neighbor.” Brayden delayed scooping his large forkful of sticky pasta into his mouth, volunteering the information like he’d been dying to spill the news.
My heartbeat escalated, wondering how much of a big mouth Miller Trask was, though sensing the time was as good as ever to tell Mom’s carefully crafted story. “Uh, um, yep. We live on the same street.”
But Brayden hadn’t finished. “Yeah, he said you used to go to Brizendine Prep. Right?”
“Oh. So why come to Snow Ridge High for senior year?” Sienna asked.
“Oh, um,” I said, unwrapping the plastic wrap from my squished salad sandwich and hoping I’d sound natural and unrehearsed with just the right amount of woe-is-me. “Well, my parents just broke up a few months ago and, yeah, my dad moved out, so, yeah, it’s just...hard.”
Elise nodded and patted my shoulder, offering more empathy than Celeste had. “Sorry, that sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” I mumbled, lowering my head, but my words were heartfelt. Because regardless of our financial situation, everything about Mom and Dad’s separation sucked.
The table was silent, the only sound Brayden’s fork scraping up his food, giving me hope that they believed me.
“Ah, Quinn is trialing for the soccer team,” Elise said brightly, seeming to forget my earlier curtness.
“That’s great,” Sienna said at the same time that Brayden said, “Oh, awesome.”
I smiled and bit into my sandwich, the soft bread doughy in my mouth.
I churned it around, scared I was going to gag on it.
But I was kind of relieved. My story was out there and no one seemed to think it was too preposterous.
Perhaps I really could blend in at Snow Ridge High without too much effort.