Chapter 7 #2
I perch on the toilet seat, wishing they’d back away so I could hurl the nothing in my stomach. With a shaky hand, I pull my phone from the pocket of my plaid skirt. The girls are bickering outside my stall about the correct definition of a stalker, and I open my phone to messages.
“SOS,” I text Jill. “I hate my new school.”
The girls’ voices slightly fade, and then I hear running water. I sit back on the lid, raising my feet so they’re not seen under the stall door.
Would my first day be different if I didn’t have this connection to Ryder? It would be so much easier if I didn’t have him and his bandmates calling me a walking plague. Then I’d just be the sad orphan.
Wow. Any way you look at this, my life sucks.
I stand by the text message.
I hate this place.
The girls cackle by the sinks, and my skin crawls.
I hate the people at this school, too.
When lunch is over, I can’t stomach the idea of going into another classroom. I recognize the looks I get from people now. Especially after so many people crowded around Ryder and his bandmates. I can only imagine the horrible rumors the trio has spread about me.
With my head down, I wander through the first floor and find the nurse’s office with relief. I have to hold on to the door frame as I walk in. Woozy is an understatement when it comes to how much my head is spinning.
The school nurse introduces herself as Mrs. Whiteborne, ushers me onto a bed, and is quick to take my temperature.
When the reading comes back as normal, she gives me a juice to drink and asks if I have any aspirin.
Apparently, parental permission is needed to give a student any form of medication.
I don’t want to disappoint my aunt when she’s already so thrilled about my academic record, so I tell the nurse I took some earlier.
Mrs. Whiteborne leaves me to rest in quiet. As I listen to her typing at her desk, there’s a buzz in the pocket of my skirt. I check Mrs. Whiteborne still has her back turned, and slip out my phone.
It’s a text from Jill. “Hey, I can finally have my phone out. I’m in the library because Mrs. Horton gave me extra research time for my essay. What’s happened? Why do you hate your school so much?”
Another message follows with a winky face emoji. “Is it because I’m not there?”
Oh, Jill. If only it were that simple.
How do I even describe this day to her? I should be in the library with her right now.
We should be swapping notes and proofreading each other’s essays.
At my old school, Jill and I had our place.
We’d grown up in Millbrook, and no one had reason to single us out.
We were just Alice and Jill. The girls who got good grades and stayed home on Friday nights, watching movies and eating cookie dough.
Without the energy to recap my hostile classes, I send Jill the video link of Sky Chaos’ performance on The Jameson Late Show along with the message, “I’m living under the same roof as the lead guitarist and vocalist.”
After a few minutes, she replies with, “What???? This is insane!!!”
“I take it from the long reply, you watched the clip?”
“Ah, yeah. I was hooked. How do you know this guy???”
“Like I said, we’re living together. My aunt is his manager.”
“That’s crazy. Why is he living with his manager?”
“No idea. It’s a weird setup. Not to mention, the whole house is weird. It’s basically Dracula’s castle.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. It’s so surreal. My aunt kinda looks like my mom, but acts nothing like her. My mom wore her emotions on her sleeve. I could always tell what she was thinking. But when it comes to my aunt, there’s something really off about her.”
Three little dots appear, and then disappear. Knowing Jill, she was going to mention my aunt’s no-show at the funeral and then freaked out.
I don’t want to make her sad with my own grief, so I steer the conversation back to my rockstar roommate. “You’d never guess what I did at dinner the first night.”
“Hi, it’s Patricia in nursing,” Mrs. Whiteborne says into her desk phone. “Can we contact Alice Winter’s guardian about her being ill? I want to make sure they park close to the front door because she’s had some dizzy spells.”
My heart pumps harder at the thought of the school calling Miranda.
Will she be mad? She’s counting on me to help Ryder with his grade average.
What will she think when I’m already skipping classes?
Reasonable adults recognize that I just lost my parents and I’m adjusting.
But my aunt is different. My aunt barely acknowledges the loss I’m experiencing.
“Oh, is that so?” There’s an air of surprise in the school nurse’s voice. “Oh, okay. I’ll pass on the message then.”
Mrs. Whiteborne turns to me, and it’s hard to read her expression.
“Your aunt called and left a message with the front desk,” she explains. “Apparently, she needed to take an early meeting with a client and record label executives. She said a car would be waiting for you. Do you know who’ll be picking you up?”
I nod, wincing from the sloshing in my fragile stomach. “I met the driver this morning.”
Mrs. Whiteborne smiles with placating relief. “Oh good. And, are you feeling any better?”
My aunt is having a meeting with her client. Ryder is her client, meaning no Ryder during the ride home. Meaning, no Miranda when I walk through the door.
No tutoring session tonight.
A smile curves my lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent.”
Mrs. Whiteborne returns her attention to her computer, and I read Jill’s text. “What happened?”
I suck in a breath and tap my phone nervously, recounting my first evening with the brooding guitarist. “Ryder walked in and I got so overwhelmed by how freaking gorgeous he is, that I tripped and broke an expensive vase.”
“Lol, he is pretty hot.”
“It was a disaster. Crystal smashed everywhere.” I send the message and remember Ryder’s hands cupping mine. “And there was something else.”
“Spill.”
“He tried to help me. He held my hands, asking if I was okay.”
“Aww. Hot, brooding, and caring. When’s the wedding?”
“LOL, never. He hates me.”
“Ummm, what??? That sounded so freaking cute!”
“I know. But then I damaged his keyboard and amp.”
“WTH?? Since when have you been so clumsy?”
“I dunno. Maybe lack of sleep?”
There’s a long pause before her simple reply of, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Dang it. I alluded to my grief again. “Anyway. He hates me.”
“I’m sure he was mad about his equipment. But hate is a strong word.”
“He told my aunt to keep me away from him, and he’s told everyone at school to avoid me at all costs.”
“What a jerk! I just down-voted the video.”
It causes a whisper of a laugh to escape me. “LOL. Thanks, Jill.”
“But seriously, why did he do that? You’re new. Does he not know about why you had to move?”
My heart swells. This is big for Jill. She almost mentioned the loss of my parents.
“He knows. He’s a jerk.”
“I hate this. You shouldn’t be near someone who treats you like this when you’re in your worst place. I wish I could hug you. I wish my family could’ve taken you in.”
I wipe away the sweat beading on my forehead. “Thank you, but social services made the choice for us.”
“I just can’t believe we’ll never go over to your house for dinner ever again. My mom wanted to cook the orange chicken recipe, but I didn’t let her. It just hurts too much. Your mom should be making it.”
The phone slips out of my hand and tumbles onto the tiled floor of the nurse’s office.
“Alice?” Mrs. Whiteborne asks. “Are you okay? Still feeling faint?”
I scoop my phone off the floor, hoping not to get in trouble.
“Don’t worry about that, dear,” Mrs. Whiteborne says in a hushed tone. “I won’t write you up for having your phone out.”
“Thanks.” I sit up on the bed, an ache stretching the width of my torso. “So, can I go?”
“Can you stand on your own?”
I swing my legs off the bed and ground my shoes against the tiles. Pushing off the bed, I stand, fumbling with my balance.
“Maybe you should…”
“No,” I cut her off, steadying my stance. “No, I’m good. Can I go?”
“Maybe you should wait in case your ride isn’t here yet.”
My stomach spasms, sending a shockwave to my knocking knees. I lift my phone and murmur, “I just texted them. They’re here.”
“Do you want me to walk you out?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and lift my backpack. “Nope, I’ve got it. Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime. Hopefully, it was just first day nerves.”
I leave the nurse’s office, hoping to maintain my balance on the walk to the foyer. I really don’t want anyone catching me and forcing me to return to my afternoon classes.
I need out.
By sheer will, I make it out of school and hurry down the front steps. I have no real plan, considering I’m supposed to have two more classes. My driver won’t be here until…
Wait, is that him?
Three black sedans are parked in the pickup zone. One has opened his driver’s door and is waving at me.
I wave back and gingerly make my way over to him.
“Afternoon, Miss Winter,” the driver says, giving a tip of his hat. “I drove Mr. Hamilton to his meeting a short while ago and didn’t have another appointment until driving you home.” He glances behind me at the school. “Did you get out early?”
“Wasn’t feeling well.”
He opens the back passenger door. “Do you want me to take you home?”
I slip my backpack off and a mound of tension slips off my back. “Please.”
“Where do you want to stop?” the driver asks, getting into the front seat.
“What do you mean?” I question. “Aren’t we going to Miranda’s house?”
“Didn’t Ms. Knox tell you she wouldn’t be home this evening?”
“Yes, I got the message.” My heart is in my stomach. “She doesn’t want me to join her, does she?”
“No, I just thought you wanted to pick up dinner on the way.”
“Isn’t Mrs. Gallagher…”
“She doesn’t prepare evening meals if Ms. Knox isn’t present,” the driver explains.
“Oh.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to understand the logistics of his statement. “Just stop off at a gas station on our way out of town.”
The driver turns around, questions swirling in his eyes.
I nod at him. “I just want to get a packet of chips and a soda.”
The driver turns around and pulls the sedan off the curb. “Fair enough, Miss Winter. Your call.”